THE BRIGADIER
135
to know his. I took a leave from the service, the only one I have had
in the entire campaign, and spent a month in one of the enemy's
mountain vil1ages that had been captured by our troops. I lived
away from the men, attended only by goats which forage high up
among the rocks in this region. I had a hut to myself, and all the
mountains necessary to a great introspection. But I learned nothing,
nothing that I did not already know.
It was when I returned to active service that I began the most
desperate work that I have as yet undertaken. I selected a group of
twenty prisoners, all young, sturdy, healthy men. I lived with them
until I grew to know them well; some were like my own sons, and one
in particular, a peasant boy named Reri, I will say that I loved. I
spent long hours out of doors with my companions, joined them in
races and various sports, their own as well as ours. We went on long
camping and fishing trips about the country, and I developed so
great a trust in them that I even provided them with firearms and
let them hunt with me. Evenings, when we were not camping under
the open sky, we entertained ourselves in my lodge, drinking, play–
ing cards or chess, listening to music, or holding the most intimate
conversations-conversations and confidences that verged on love.
We became very intimate; there has never been a group of men
whom I have known or loved so well, never a youth as my Reri for
whom I have had such a close and tender feeling. It was above all
with Reri that I carried on my desperate yet gentle work; I strove
to know him as completely as one man can ever hope to know an–
other, and something in his response to me, perhaps an intuitive com–
prehension of my motive, promised that my effort would be re–
warded. He was a handsome boy, taller than the average among the
enemy, and fairer in color and complexion. Certainly one such as he
could be known, a face as open as his could not long conceal the
secrets of the inner nature. Often when I was not with him I would
picture his face to myself, trusting that a chance moment of insight
might reveal him, and therefore his whole people, to me. And I
studied his image, sketching him and taking many photographs
while he sat patiently before me. (I have kept these sketches and
photographs, and look at them from time to time as I once looked
at the living Reri. His image still saddens and perplexes me.) So,
with all my companions, I engaged in an unceasing search after
friendship and understanding, hoping that love would teach me what
I was determined to know.
But my ultimate means were not to be gentle, and when I
