Captain Weisspriess ran him through the body, and attached a sinister label to his corpse.

This he did not so much from brutality; the man felt that henceforth while he held his life he was at war with every Italian gentleman of mettle.

Count Broncini was his next victim.
There, for a time, the slaughtering business of the captain stopped.
His brother officers of the better kind would not have excused him at another season, but the avenger of their irritation and fine vindicator of the merits of Austrian steel, had a welcome truly warm, when at the termination of his second duel he strode into mess, or what serves for an Austrian regimental mess.
It ensued naturally that there was everywhere in Verona a sharp division between the Italians of all classes and their conquerors.

The great green-rinded melons were never wheeled into the neighbourhood of the whitecoats.

Damsels were no longer coquettish under the military glance, but hurried by in couples; and there was much scowling mixed with derisive servility, throughout the city, hard to be endured without that hostile state of the spirit which is the military mind's refuge in such cases.