THE DRAMA OF 365 DAYS
if she dared to break her neutrality her fate should be as the fate of Belgium. That frightened some of us for a moment. We thought of Venice, of Florence, of Assisi, of Subiaco, of Naples, and of Rome, and, remembering the methods by which Germany was beating and bludgeoning her way through the war, our hearts trembled and thrilled at a dreadful vision of the lovely and beloved Italian land under the heel of a ruthless aggressor—of the destruction of the history of Christendom as it had been written by great artists on canvas and by great architects in stone through the long calendar of nearly two thousand years. But we also thought of Savoy, of Palestro, of Casale, of Caprera, and of "Roma o morte," and told ourselves that, come what might, victory or defeat, the children of Victor Emanuel III would never allow themselves to buy the ease and safety of their bodies by the corruption and degradation of their souls.
THE ITALIAN SOUL
That was the great and awful hour when Italy
stood on the threshold of her fate; but though
Great Britain's heart was bleeding from the
sacrifices she had already made, and had still to
make, and though Italy's intervention meant so
much to us, we did not feel that we had a right
