"No, but this morning's news is very bad. We have our orders to be
ready to start at any moment."

"Oh!" Maria caught her breath sharply, and her eyes filled with tears
as she looked at Roderigo shyly.

He saw the tears in surprise, and a contented warmth settled around his
heart. He looked half expectantly at Lucia. Surely, if this calm, shy
girl of the north would shed a tear for him, she with the warm blood of
the south in her veins would weep. But Lucia's eyes were dry, and the
only expression he could find in them was envy. He turned away in
disgust. He did not admire too much courage in girls, for he was very
young and very sentimental, and he enjoyed being cried over.

A bugle sounded from the other end of the street, and in an instant
everything was in confusion. The soldiers hurried to answer, and the
people crowded about to see what was going to happen.

Lucia, eager and excited, snatched Maria's hand and pulled her into the
very center of the crowd. An officer, with the bugler beside him, read
an order from the steps of the town hall, an old gray stone building
that had stood in silent dignity at the end of the square for many
centuries.

The girls were not near enough to hear the order, but they soon found
Roderigo in the excited mass of soldiers, and he explained it to them.

"We are to leave for the front at once," he cried excitedly. "We have
not a moment to spare. Tavola has been captured by the enemy, and our
troops are retreating through the Pass."