That night, although tired, Medardo was slow to fall asleep. He looked at the Bohemian stars in the sky, thought about his new rank, the battle of the next day, and the distant homeland, its rustling reeds in the streams. In his heart he had neither nostalgia, nor doubt, nor anxiety. For him, things were still whole and indisputable, and so was he himself.
Greet with joy!
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