How are they about chickens?"
He tilted his eyes toward heaven in mute ecstasy. I understood.
"What is chicken, in Italian?" I asked.
"Pollo, PODERE." (Podere is Italian for master. It is a title
of courtesy, and conveys reverence and admiration.) "Pollo is one
chicken by itself; when there are enough present to constitute
a plural, it is POLLI."
"Very well, polli will do. Which squad is detailed for duty next?"
"The Past Definite."
"Send out and order it to the front--with chickens. And let them
understand that we don't want any more of this cold indifference."
He gave the order to an aide, adding, with a haunting tenderness
in his tone and a watering mouth in his aspect:
"Convey to them the conception that these are unprotected chickens."
He turned to me, saluting with his hand to his temple, and explained,
"It will inflame their interest in the poultry, sire."
A few minutes elapsed. Then the squad marched in and formed up,
their faces glowing with enthusiasm, and the file-leader shouted:
"EBBI POLLI, I had chickens!"
"Good!" I said. "Go on, the next."
"AVEST POLLI, thou hadst chickens!"
"Fine! Next!"
"EBBE POLLI, he had chickens!"
"Moltimoltissimo! Go on, the next!"
"AVEMMO POLLI, we had chickens!"
"Basta-basta aspettatto avanti--last man--CHARGE!"
"EBBERO POLLI, they had chickens!"
Then they formed in echelon, by columns of fours, refused the left,
and retired in great style on the double-quick.
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