“Of course,” the Colonel said. “In what town are we anyway?”
“Venice,” she said. “The best town, I think.”
“I quite agree. And thank you for not asking me for more war episodes.”
“Oh you are going to have to tell them to me later.”
“Have to?” the Colonel said and the cruelty and resolution showed in his strange eyes as clearly as when the hooded muzzle of the gun of a tank swings toward you.
“Did you say have to, Daughter?”
“I said it. But I did not mean it in that way. Or, if I did wrong, I am sorry. I meant will you please tell me more true episodes later? And explain me the things I do not understand?”
“You can use have to if you want, Daughter. The hell with it.”
He smiled and his eyes were as kind as they ever were, which was not too kind, as he knew. But there was nothing now that he could do about it except to try to be kind to his last and true and only love.
“I don’t really mind, Daughter. Please believe me. I know about command and, at your age, I used to take considerable pleasure in exercising it.”
“But I don’t want to command,” the girl said. In spite of her resolution not to cry, her eyes were wet. “I wish to serve you.”
“I know. But you wish to command, too. There’s nothing wrong in that. All people such as us have it.”
“Thank you for the such as us.”
