A Farewell to Arms Read Online Free PDF

boy.”
    “That's what the priest said.”
    “Yes, you're very good. And you will come and see me?”
    “Of course.”
    “And you don't have to say you love me. That's all over for a while.” She stood up and put out her hand. “Good-night.”
    I wanted to kiss her.
    “No,” she said. “I'm awfully tired.”
    “Kiss me, though,” I said.
    “I'm awfully tired, darling.”
    “Kiss me.”
    “Do you want to very much?”
    “Yes.”
    We kissed and she broke away suddenly. “No. Good-night, please, darling.” We walked to the door and I saw her go in and down the hall. I liked to watch her move. She went on down the hall. I went on home. It was a hot night and there was a good deal going on up in the mountains. I watched the flashes on San Gabriele.
    I stopped in front of the Villa Rossa. The shutters were up but it was still going on inside. Somebody was singing. I went on home. Rinaldi came in while I was undressing.
    “Ah, ha!” he said. “It does not go so well. Baby is puzzled.”
    “Where have you been?”
    “At the Villa Rossa. It was very edifying, baby. We all sang. Where have you been?”
    “Calling on the British.”
    “Thank God I did not become involved with the British.”
     
     
     
     

A Farewell To Arms
    7
     
     
    I came back the next afternoon from our first mountain post and stopped the car at the smistimento where the wounded and sick were sorted by their papers and the papers marked for the different hospitals. I had been driving and I sat in the car and the driver took the papers in. It was a hot day and the sky was very bright and blue and the road was white and dusty. I sat in the high seat of the Fiat and thought about nothing. A regiment went by in the road and I watched them pass. The men were hot and sweating. Some wore their steel helmets but most of them carried them slung from their packs. Most of the helmets were too big and came down almost over the ears of the men who wore them. The officers all wore helmets; better-fitting helmets. It was half of the brigata Basilicata
    . I identified them by their red and white striped collar mark. There were stragglers going by long after the regiment had passed--men who could not keep up with their platoons. They were sweaty, dusty and tired. Some looked pretty bad. A soldier came along after the last of the stragglers. He was walking with a limp. He stopped and sat down beside the road. I got down and went over.
    “What's the matter?”
    He looked at me, then stood up.
    “I'm going on.”
    “What's the trouble?”
    “-- the war.”
    “What's wrong with your leg?”
    “It's not my leg. I got a rupture.”
    “Why don't you ride with the transport?” I asked. “Why don't you go to the hospital?”
    “They won't let me. The lieutenant said I slipped the truss on purpose.”
    “Let me feel it.”
    “It's way out.”
    “Which side is it on?”
    “Here.”
    I felt it.
    “Cough,” I said.
    “I'm afraid it will make it bigger. It's twice as big as it was this morning.”
    “Sit down,” I said. “As soon as I get the papers on these wounded I'll take you along the road and drop you with your medical officers.”
    “He'll say I did it on purpose.”
    “They can't do anything,” I said. “It's not a wound. You've had it before, haven't you?”
    “But I lost the truss.”
    “They'll send you to a hospital.”
    “Can't I stay here, Tenente?”
    “No, I haven't any papers for you.”
    The driver came out of the door with the papers for the wounded in the car.
    “Four for 105. Two for 132,” he said. They were hospitals beyond the river.
    “You drive,” I said. I helped the soldier with the rupture up on the seat with us.
    “You speak English?” he asked.
    “Sure.”
    “How you like this goddam war?”
    “Rotten.”
    “I say it's rotten. Jesus Christ, I say it's rotten.”
    “Were you in the States?”
    “Sure. In Pittsburgh. I knew you was an American.”
    “Don't I talk Italian good enough?”
    “I knew you