“No,” said a third. “It was blown up by the enemy; they thought we were on the march, near the mine.” I arose and said solemnly: “I know who blew up the mine and made your victory and escape possible.” “Tell us, tell us!” they shouted in chorus. “Who?” “It was Fiam, who....” “Who is that?” asked twenty voices at once. “Who is our hero and our rescuer? How did you know him?” “It is,” I proceeded firmly, “the Haji of an old willow tree that....” A tumult of laughter greeted me. Even the general joined in. They thought I was joking. The general cried: “Still more legends, ha, ha!” “I am in earnest,” I said, turning to him, and couldn’t help adding, “It was the Haji of Funato, your Haji.” The laughter increased. “Legends, superstitions, fancies,” I heard in the midst of the hilarity. I was so bewildered I didn’t know whether to get angry or laugh with them. Suddenly I felt a touch on my shoulder. I turned to see an officer looking attentively at me. “My name is Tasa. Let me feel your pulse. Show me your tongue. I recommend a little ice on the head.” Transcriber's Notes Original spelling and punctuation have been preserved as much as possible. Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little Match Man, by Luigi Barzini