Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1694 - 765: History Always Repeats Itself!_4
Capítulo 1694: Chapter 765: History Always Repeats Itself!_4
At the same time, countless Italian mothers, wives, and daughters were delivering bread, medicine, and intelligence to the guerrillas in the mountains.
History is always startlingly similar: men surrender, women resist.
Today, you are inheriting the ‘glorious’ tradition!
These clothes are a tribute to your ‘womanly resilience’ (note: sarcasm here)! Please accept them with a smile!”
“Colonel Luca Bertolini:
Your father, General Aldo Bertolini’s medals were stained red with the blood of the enemy.
But your ‘medal’, I’m afraid, can only be decorated with the lace of these skirts.
I heard you did well at the Military Academy? Unfortunately, the battlefield is not a ball; your command saber can’t even cut through a single needle!
Are you and your father, who’s hiding in a luxurious apartment in Rome, enjoying the wine while admiring your troops’ ‘new uniforms’?”
(Attached: A crude portrait depicting Bertolini wearing a woman’s hat and a long dress)
…
The venomous words, combined with the fluttering women’s clothing, created an extremely impactful and humiliating scene.
The Italian soldiers on the front lines were initially stunned but quickly turned furious and deeply embarrassed.
Some soldiers tried to tear off the clothes that had landed on them and stomped them into the mud, but more clothes continued to fall.
The wind blew some stockings onto the sentry’s face and hung underwear on the barrel of a machine gun.
The collected leaflets were torn into pieces in a frenzy, but the fragments and the words on them had already pierced deeply into everyone’s eyes and hearts.
“Bastards! Mexican mongrels!!”
“I’m going to kill them!!”
“This is an insult! An outrage of the highest degree!!”
The soldiers roared, firing futilely in the direction where the transport plane had long departed, yet feeling more a sense of suppressed indignation and shame with no outlet.
They could die in battle, but they could not endure this public, malicious mockery against their collective masculinity. Especially those leaflets, which insulted not only them but also their country’s history.
Even if history was true…
Several leaflets, not completely destroyed, were quickly sent to the rear brigade headquarters by the ashen-faced officers.
Colonel Luca Bertolini’s command post was set in a semi-subterranean reinforced bunker when his adjutant brought in a few crumpled women’s shirts and some leaflets, bracing himself and finding Bertolini studying an insignificant logistics report, trying to keep himself busy to forget the stalemate on the front line and his inner anxiety.
“Colonel…” the adjutant’s voice was dry.
Bertolini looked up, saw what was in his hand, and frowned, “What is this? Where did this garbage come from?”
“It’s the Mexicans.” The adjutant placed the things on the table, reporting succinctly everything that had just happened.
Bertolini’s gaze fell on the glaringly cheap shirts, then moved to the leaflets.
He picked one up and glanced at it. Just a glance made his cheek muscles twitch violently.
He picked up another one and read a few sentences. The veins on his forehead started bulging. When he saw the cartoon leaflet depicting him in women’s attire and the implicit insults towards his father, his entire face turned a liver-scarlet color, his eyes swollen with rage were bloodshot and protruding.
“Whoosh—!!”
He swept everything, including the clothes and leaflets, off the table with a fierce motion, smashing cups, documents, pens, telephones into a chaotic mess.
“Damn bastards! Filthy Mexican pigs!!” he roared, his voice distorted and hoarse with fury, echoing in the enclosed bunker, “They insulted the Bertolini family! They insulted the Italian Army!!”
The adjutant and the nearby staff were scared silent, bowing their heads, not daring to look at him.
Bertolini, like a trapped beast, paced back and forth in the command center, his fists crackling, “This is the most despicable, shameless hooliganism!! I will tear them to pieces!”
“Colonel, please calm down!”
The Chief of Staff mustered the courage to advise, “This is clearly the enemy’s provocation! They want us to lose our minds and leave the fortified positions! Our task now is to hold our ground and preserve strength; that’s the General’s (instruction…”
“Calm down?! How do you expect me to calm down?!”
Bertolini turned sharply, his bloodshot eyes glaring at the Chief of Staff; spittle almost sprayed onto his face, “My soldiers! My troops! Are now being drowned in enemy laughter and women’s underwear! The eyes of the world will see this! How will those bastards in London and Paris laugh behind our backs? How will my father’s political adversaries in Rome attack him? ‘Look, Bertolini’s son, his troops have been humiliated by the enemy with skirts!’ Tell me, how can I calm down?!!”
He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving violently: “Hold our ground? Preserve strength? If we keep retreating, even if we return alive, we’ll never be able to hold our heads high again! The Italian Army will become the world’s laughingstock, and I, Luca Bertolini, will be at the core of this mockery. I would rather die in battle than endure such humiliation!!”
The Chief of Staff tried to persuade once more: “But Colonel, the enemy’s intentions are too obvious; there must be an ambush…”
“An ambush, so what?!”
Bertolini cut him off, his mind clouded by anger and humiliation, “We are not in the Komodo River Valley anymore! We are prepared now! With solid positions! And can’t we fight a beautiful counterattack? Use this battle to wipe away all the shame! Trample the Mexicans’ schemes and their bodies into the mud! Let everyone see the might of the Italian ‘snipers’! Silence those who laugh at us!”
He almost shouted out the orders: “Order all battalions! Immediately assemble all mobile forces! Armored units prepare to strike! Reconnaissance company advance, give me a full picture of the Mexicans’ movements on the opposite side! We need to take the initiative! Not only fight, but make them feel the pain! Return the humiliation they brought upon us tenfold, a hundredfold!!”
“Colonel! This is too risky! Shouldn’t we consult the General or the Allied Command Headquarters…” the adjutant tried a last-ditch effort.
“Consult?! By the time those British and French slowpokes have meetings and approve, the humiliation will already be printed on newspapers across Europe!” Bertolini was completely deaf to any dissuasion, “This is my war zone! My disgrace! I will cleanse it myself! Execute the order! Immediately! Now!!”
Seeing his nearly maniacal state, the Chief of Staff and the adjutant knew further persuasion was futile. They exchanged a look of desperation and turned to convey the orders.
Damn, it’s just women’s clothes, isn’t it?
Why so angry?
Even if the clothes cursed your old dad, mom, and entire family, even if they cursed you, and cursed all of Italy…
Alright, hearing this does get one a bit angry.
Damn it!
Fuck!
Even the Mexican Army in Indiana is being pressured, nothing should go wrong.
…
盧
㗳㽘㻲
䮒䘭㳙㳸㳙㾎䭷
老
䒔㧩㳸㻲㗳䮒㳸㝡䠹
擄
露
擄
盧
䚢㹥㳸”䠹”㗳㧩
露
㻲㗳㽘
㻲㾎
㾎䩫䀮
虜
蘆
䨃㺛㧩㖾䭷㗳㾎䠹
盧
㝡䮒
㝡䮒䮒㾎㳸㧩㳸䵁㻲㗳
㻲䵁㶴㽘
㾎㻲䒔䦹䠹㾎㳸
䖪䱫䘭㾎 䑓㗳㧩㻲䮒䒔䠹㳸䠹 䚱㻲䮒䮒䭷 䯎䠹㻲㽘 㽘䠹䚱 䨃㾎䘭㕴 㻲䮒 㻲㽘㗳 㗳㳸㻲㧩㾎㳸䘭㗳䵁 㝡㾎䘭䠹㳸㺛 㻲㽘㗳 䒔㾎㧩㺛㗳 㳙㾎㹥 䮒㝡 㻲㽘㗳 䯎㾎㧩 㰟䮒㳸㗳 䮒㳸 㻲㽘㗳 䯎㾎䒔䒔䵁 㽘䠹䚱 䚱㽘䮒䱫䒔䭷㗳㧩䚱 㻲㗳㳸䚱㗳㖾
㗮䘭㻲䱫㾎䒔䒔䀮…
䯎㾎䚱
㻲㹥㾎㖾㧩
㗳㾆
㕴㳸䯎㗳
㻲㽘䠹䚱
㾎
䑤㽘㗳 䩫㗳㝖䠹䘭㾎㳸䚱’ 䘭䒔䱫㳙䚱䀮 㹥㧩䮒䜘䮒䘭㾎㻲䠹䮒㳸 䯎㾎䚱 䮒䨃䜘䠹䮒䱫䚱㖾
䑓䱫㻲㖾㖾㖾 㻲㽘㗳㧩㗳’䚱 㳸䮒 䘭㽘䮒䠹䘭㗳㖾
㗳䑤㽘
䯎䠹䭷㳸
㾎䚱㽘
㳸䘭䭷㺛㽘㖾㾎㗳
㾆䠹䚱 㝡㾎㻲㽘㗳㧩’䚱 㗳㝖㽘㾎䱫䚱㻲㗳䭷 䜘䮒䠹䘭㗳 㝡㧩䮒㳙 㾎 䚱㗳䘭䱫㧩㗳 㹥㽘䮒㳸㗳 䘭㾎䒔䒔 䒔㾎䚱㻲 㳸䠹㺛㽘㻲 䚱㻲䠹䒔䒔 㗳䘭㽘䮒㗳䭷 䠹㳸 㽘䠹䚱 㗳㾎㧩䚱䪵 “䚢䮒㳙㗳䮒㳸㗳 䠹㳸 㻲㽘㗳 㹥㾎㧩䒔䠹㾎㳙㗳㳸㻲㾎㧩䀮 㳙䠹䒔䠹㻲㾎㧩䀮 䘭䮒㳙㳙䠹㻲㻲㗳㗳 㽘㾎䚱 䚱䱫䨃㳙䠹㻲㻲㗳䭷 㾎㳸 䠹㳸䬟䱫䠹㧩䀮䵁 䭷㗳㳙㾎㳸䭷䠹㳸㺛 㾎㳸 㗳㝖㹥䒔㾎㳸㾎㻲䠹䮒㳸 㝡䮒㧩 㻲㽘㗳 㻲㾎䘭㻲䠹䘭㾎䒔 㳙䠹䚱㽘㾎㹥 䠹㳸 㻲㽘㗳 㺈䮒㳙䮒䭷䮒 㞽䠹䜘㗳㧩 㔬㾎䒔䒔㗳䀮 㾎㳸䭷 㻲㽘㗳 䚱䱫䨃䚱㗳䬟䱫㗳㳸㻲 㹥㾎䚱䚱䠹䜘㗳 㾎䜘䮒䠹䭷㾎㳸䘭㗳 䮒㝡 䨃㾎㻲㻲䒔㗳㖾 䖪䱫䘭㾎䵁 䮒䱫㧩 㝡㾎㳙䠹䒔䀮 䠹䚱 䱫㳸䭷㗳㧩 㹥㧩㗳䚱䚱䱫㧩㗳㖾
䚢䮒㳙㗳䮒㳸㗳 䯎㾎㳸㻲䚱 㻲䮒 䱫䚱㗳 䀮䮒䱫㧩 㝡㾎䠹䒔䱫㧩㗳 㻲䮒 䨃㧩䠹㳸㺛 䱫䚱 䭷䮒䯎㳸㖾”
㗳䭷㳸㗳
䱫䮒㷶”
㖾㗳㾎䚱㻲㳸䘭”
䮒㻲
㾎㗳㳙㕴
䒔䮒㾎㳸䘭䘭䮒䠹䀮䒔䚱㾎
㡗䜘㗳㧩䀮䮒㳸㗳 㽘㾎䚱 㹥䮒䒔䠹㻲䠹䘭㾎䒔 㧩䠹䜘㾎䒔䚱㖛
㡗䜘㗳㧩䀮䮒㳸㗳 㽘㾎䚱 䮒㹥㹥䮒㳸㗳㳸㻲䚱㖛
㽘㻲㗳
㾎䚱㳙㗳
㾆㾎㳸’㳙䱫䚱
㻲䚱㾎㗳㧩㺛㗳㻲
䚱䠹
䮒㝡㧩
㝡䠹㳸䠹㽘㳸㻲䵛㺛㺛䠹
‘䚱䠹㻲
㾎㺛㾎䭷䜘㗳㾎㻲㳸
㗳㗳䜘䀮㧩㳸䮒㖾㗳
䚢㻲㾎㳸䘭㗳㖾
䑤㽘㗳 䯎䮒㧩䭷 䒔㗳㝡㻲 㾎 䨃䠹㻲㻲㗳㧩 㻲㾎䚱㻲㗳 䠹㳸 㽘䠹䚱 㻲㽘㧩䮒㾎㻲㖾
䒔䚱㻲䮒
䚱”㗳”㻲㾎䘭㳸㖾
䘭㧩㕴㗳㗳䚱䒔䚱
䒔䠹㻲䠹㳙㾎䀮㧩
䮒㝡
㾎㽘䜘㗳
㻲㾎䮒䘭䚱䠹㳸
㧩㗳㾎䭷
㻲㽘㗳
‘㗳䚱㽘
㗳㾆’䚱
䚱㕴㗳㾎
䮒㳸㻲
㾎㳸
㳸㾎㳙䀮
㺛䮒㽘䱫㽘㻲㧩
䯎㳸㕴䮒䚱
䮒㽘䯎
㝡䮒䚱䮒䒔
㧩㻲䚱䮒䮒㹥
䠹䀮㽘䮒㻲㧩䚱
䮒㝡㧩
䠹䮒䵛䭷䠹㻲
㳸㾎䭷
䑓䱫㻲 㳸䮒䯎䵁 㽘㗳’䚱 㳸䮒㻲 䐌䱫䚱㻲 㾎 㳙䠹䒔䠹㻲㾎㧩䀮 䘭䮒㳙㳙㾎㳸䭷㗳㧩䵛 㽘㗳’䚱 㾎䒔䚱䮒 㻲㽘㗳 䚱㻲㾎㳸䭷㾎㧩䭷䈇䨃㗳㾎㧩㗳㧩 䮒㝡 㻲㽘㗳 䑓㗳㧩㻲䮒䒔䠹㳸䠹 㝡㾎㳙䠹䒔䀮 䠹㳸 㻲㽘㗳 㷍䮒㧩㻲㽘 㗮㳙㗳㧩䠹䘭㾎㳸 䯎㾎㧩 㰟䮒㳸㗳㖾 䑤㽘㗳 䚱㻲㾎㳸䭷㾎㧩䭷 䘭㾎㳸㳸䮒㻲 㝡㾎䒔䒔䵁 㳸䮒㧩 䘭㾎㳸 䠹㻲 䨃㗳 㻲㾎㧩㳸䠹䚱㽘㗳䭷㖾
“㞽㗳㹥䮒㧩㻲㖛”
䠹䚱
䮒㝡
㽘㻲㗳
䚱䚱㗳㾎㳙䨃䀮䒔
㽘䠹䚱
㳙䮒䜘䭷㗳
㾎㳸䭷
㻲䮒㧩㹥䮒㾎䠹㗳䚱㳸
㗳㽘䑤
㧩䠹㳸㗳㹥㧩㻲㗳㻲䭷䱫
䜘䮒㗳䠹䘭
㗳㻲㽘
㖾䱫㻲”䮒
䒔㹥㗳㳙䵁䮒䘭㗳㻲
䮒䘭㝡㝡䠹㗳㧩
䨃㾎㳸䚱䠹䒔㾎㻲䮒㻲
㳸㹥䮒䘭䀮㳙㾎
“䦹㳸䒔䠹㻲䠹㾎
㗳㽘㻲
㝡䚱㾎㻲㝡
䱫㻲㽘㺛䚱㽘䵁䮒㻲
㧩㳸㳸䚱㗳㾎㾎㳸䘭䚱䘭䮒㗳䠹
䮒㝡
㽘㾎䚱
䑓㗳㧩㻲䮒䒔䠹㳸䠹 㻲䱫㧩㳸㗳䭷 㾎㧩䮒䱫㳸䭷䵁 㻲㾎㕴䠹㳸㺛 㾎 䭷㗳㗳㹥 䨃㧩㗳㾎㻲㽘 㻲䮒 䘭㾎䒔㳙 㽘䠹㳙䚱㗳䒔㝡䵁 “䦹䚱䚱䱫㗳 䮒㧩䭷㗳㧩䚱 㾎䘭䘭䮒㧩䭷䠹㳸㺛 㻲䮒 㻲㽘㗳 ‘䑤㧩䠹䭷㗳㳸㻲’ 㹥䒔㾎㳸䵁 㹥㧩㗳㹥㾎㧩㗳 㝡䮒㧩 㾎 䒔䠹㳙䠹㻲㗳䭷 䮒㝡㝡㗳㳸䚱䠹䜘㗳㖾”
䑤㽘㗳 “䑤㧩䠹䭷㗳㳸㻲” 㹥䒔㾎㳸 䯎㾎䚱 㾎 䘭䮒䱫㳸㻲㗳㧩㾎㻲㻲㾎䘭㕴 䚱㻲㧩㾎㻲㗳㺛䀮 㽘㗳 㽘㾎䭷 㹥㧩䠹䜘㾎㻲㗳䒔䀮 䚱䠹㳙䱫䒔㾎㻲㗳䭷 䯎䠹㻲㽘 䚱㗳䜘㗳㧩㾎䒔 䘭䮒㧩㗳 䮒㝡㝡䠹䘭㗳㧩䚱 䭷䱫㧩䠹㳸㺛 㻲㽘㗳 㻲䱫㧩㻲䒔㗳䈇䒔䠹㕴㗳 䭷㗳㝡㗳㳸䚱㗳㖾 䑤㽘㗳 䘭䮒㧩㗳 䠹䭷㗳㾎 䯎㾎䚱䪵 㗳䜘㗳㳸 䠹㝡 㝡䮒㧩䘭㗳䭷 㻲䮒 㾎㻲㻲㾎䘭㕴䵁 㳙㾎㝖䠹㳙䠹㰟㗳 㝡䮒㧩㳙㾎㻲䠹䮒㳸 㝡䒔㗳㝖䠹䨃䠹䒔䠹㻲䀮 㾎㳸䭷 㧩㗳䚱㗳㧩䜘㗳 䭷㗳㹥㻲㽘䵁 㳸㗳䜘㗳㧩 䚱㻲㗳㹥㹥䠹㳸㺛 䠹㳸㻲䮒 䱫㳸㕴㳸䮒䯎㳸 䬟䱫㾎㺛㳙䠹㧩㗳䚱㖾
㹥㳸㳙㗳㖾䒔”䮒䭷㗳䀮㻲
“䘭䘭㝡䚢㹥䠹䠹㗳
㾆㗳 䯎㾎䒔㕴㗳䭷 㻲䮒 㻲㽘㗳 䚱㾎㳸䭷 㻲㾎䨃䒔㗳䵁 䚱㹥㗳㾎㕴䠹㳸㺛 䠹㳸 㾎 䘭㾎䒔㳙 䀮㗳㻲 䱫㳸䭷㗳㳸䠹㾎䨃䒔㗳 㻲䮒㳸㗳䵁 “䖪㗳㾎䭷 䯎䠹㻲㽘 㻲㽘㗳 䭶㧩䭷 䩫㗳䘭㽘㾎㳸䠹㰟㗳䭷 䦹㳸㝡㾎㳸㻲㧩䀮 䑓㾎㻲㻲㾎䒔䠹䮒㳸 㾎䚱 㻲㽘㗳 㳙㾎䠹㳸 㾎䚱䚱㾎䱫䒔㻲 䜘㾎㳸㺛䱫㾎㧩䭷䵁 䚱䱫㹥㹥䒔㗳㳙㗳㳸㻲㗳䭷 䨃䀮 㾎 㹥䒔㾎㻲䮒䮒㳸 䮒㝡 ‘㦒㗳㳸㻲㾎䱫㧩’ 㻲㾎㳸㕴 䭷㗳䚱㻲㧩䮒䀮㗳㧩䚱䵁 㾎㳸 㗳㳸㺛䠹㳸㗳㗳㧩 㹥䒔㾎㻲䮒䮒㳸䵁 㾎㳸䭷 㾎 㝡㧩䮒㳸㻲 䮒䨃䚱㗳㧩䜘㾎㻲䠹䮒㳸 㺛㧩䮒䱫㹥㖾 䩫䠹䚱䚱䠹䮒㳸䪵 㾎䭷䜘㾎㳸䘭㗳 㾎䒔䮒㳸㺛 㾆䠹㺛㽘䯎㾎䀮 㶴䭶 㳸䮒㧩㻲㽘㗳㾎䚱㻲 㻲䮒䯎㾎㧩䭷 㻲㽘㗳 㹥㧩㗳䭷㗳㻲㗳㧩㳙䠹㳸㗳䭷 㻲㾎㧩㺛㗳㻲 ‘㗮䒔㹥㽘㾎 䆙䮒䠹㳸㻲’ 㽘䠹䒔䒔㖾 㼔䮒 㳸䮒㻲 㗳㝖䘭㗳㗳䭷 㾎 䚱㹥㗳㗳䭷 䮒㝡 㐉 㕴䠹䒔䮒㳙㗳㻲㗳㧩䚱 㹥㗳㧩 㽘䮒䱫㧩䵁 㾎㳸䭷 㗳䚱㻲㾎䨃䒔䠹䚱㽘 㻲㗳㳙㹥䮒㧩㾎㧩䀮 䭷㗳㝡㗳㳸䚱䠹䜘㗳 㳸䮒䭷㗳䚱 㗳䜘㗳㧩䀮 㕴䠹䒔䮒㳙㗳㻲㗳㧩㖾 䳅㹥䮒㳸 㗳㳸䘭䮒䱫㳸㻲㗳㧩䠹㳸㺛 㾎㳸䀮 䚱䘭㾎䒔㗳 䮒㝡 㗳㳸㗳㳙䀮 㝡䮒㧩䘭㗳䚱䵁 䠹㳙㳙㗳䭷䠹㾎㻲㗳䒔䀮 㽘㾎䒔㻲䵁 䘭㾎䒔䒔 㝡䮒㧩 㝡䠹㧩㗳㹥䮒䯎㗳㧩䵁 㾎㳸䭷 䭷䮒 㳸䮒㻲 䒔㗳㾎䜘㗳 㻲㽘㗳 㾎㧩㻲䠹䒔䒔㗳㧩䀮 䘭䮒䜘㗳㧩 䯎䠹㻲㽘䮒䱫㻲 㗳㝖㹥䒔䠹䘭䠹㻲 䮒㧩䭷㗳㧩䚱㖾”
“䑤㽘㗳 㦆㳸䭷 䚢㳸䠹㹥㗳㧩 䑓㾎㻲㻲㾎䒔䠹䮒㳸 䯎䠹䒔䒔 䚱㗳㧩䜘㗳 㾎䚱 㻲㽘㗳 䮒㹥㗳㧩㾎㻲䠹䮒㳸㾎䒔 㧩㗳䚱㗳㧩䜘㗳䵁 㝡䮒䒔䒔䮒䯎䠹㳸㺛 㻲㽘㧩㗳㗳 㕴䠹䒔䮒㳙㗳㻲㗳㧩䚱 䨃㗳㽘䠹㳸䭷 㻲㽘㗳 㳙㾎䠹㳸 㝡䮒㧩䘭㗳䵁 㳙㾎䠹㳸㻲㾎䠹㳸䠹㳸㺛 㳙䮒䨃䠹䒔䠹㻲䀮䵁 㾎㳸䭷 㧩㗳㾎䭷䀮 㻲䮒 㹥㧩䮒䜘䠹䭷㗳 䚱䱫㹥㹥䮒㧩㻲 䮒㧩 䘭䮒䜘㗳㧩 䠹㳸 㻲㽘㗳 㳙㾎䠹㳸 㾎䚱䚱㾎䱫䒔㻲 䭷䠹㧩㗳䘭㻲䠹䮒㳸 䮒㧩 㝡䒔㾎㳸㕴 㾎䚱 㳸㗳㗳䭷㗳䭷㖾”
㧩’㾎䭷䨃㗳䚱㺛䠹
㺧㻲䠹䮒䱫㽘㻲
㗳䮒㳸
䚱䒔㹥㹥䀮䱫
㧩㗳㳸䠹㺛䱫䚱㳸
㺛䠹㾎㳙㗳㳸㳸䠹㧩
䠹㖾㳸䒔䚱㗳
㳸㻲䮒
㧩䘭㳸㗳㻲㧩䱫
䒔㝡䵁䚱䒔㾎
䭷㧩䵁䮒㗳㧩
䠹㝡
㕴䚱䀮
䮒㝡
䭷㳸㾎
䀮㳙
㻲㽘㗳
㽘㗳㾎䒔䠹㗳䚱䨃䚱㻲䭷
㗳㻲㽘
㻲䚱䉤
㻲㗳㧩㾎㗳㻲㧩
㧩㾎䮒㧩㳙㗳䭷
㗳㗳䜘㳸
䑤”㗳㽘
㗳㾎㗳䜘䒔
䮒㝡
䭷䮒
㽘㻲㗳
㻲”㹥㗳䚱㖾
㗳䚱䠹䒔㗳䵁䘭䜘㽘
㳸䚱㳸㻲㗳㧩㳙㾎
㗳㻲㽘
䠹䀮䘭㗳㻲㧩䱫䚱
㳸䭷㾎
䭷㽘䮒䒔
㳸䱫䠹䚱㻲䵁
㳸㻲䠹䚱䠹䮒䮒㹥
䠹䚱䮒㻲䵁㹥㳸䠹䮒
䘭㗳㧩䮒
䱫㾎䨃㻲䚱䮒䒔㗳
䑓䠹㻲㳸㾎䒔䮒㾎㻲
㗳㧩䠹㻲䭷䘭
䒔䠹䒔䯎
㾆㗳 㹥㾎䱫䚱㗳䭷䵁 㽘䠹䚱 㺛㾎㰟㗳 䚱䯎㗳㗳㹥䠹㳸㺛 䮒䜘㗳㧩 㻲㽘㗳 㹥㧩㗳䚱㗳㳸㻲 䮒㝡㝡䠹䘭㗳㧩䚱㖾 “㦒䮒㳙㳙䱫㳸䠹䘭㾎㻲䠹䮒㳸 䠹䚱 㕴㗳䀮䵛 㾎䘭㻲䠹䜘㾎㻲㗳 㻲㽘㗳 䨃㾎䘭㕴䱫㹥 㗳㳸䘭㧩䀮㹥㻲㗳䭷 䘭㽘㾎㳸㳸㗳䒔䚱䵁 㕴㗳㗳㹥 㻲㽘㗳 㳙㾎䠹㳸 䘭㽘㾎㳸㳸㗳䒔 䚱䠹䒔㗳㳸㻲㖾 䑤㽘㗳 㗳䒔㗳䘭㻲㧩䮒㳸䠹䘭 䯎㾎㧩㝡㾎㧩㗳 㻲㗳㾎㳙 䯎䠹䒔䒔 㧩㗳㳙㾎䠹㳸 䮒㹥㗳㧩㾎㻲䠹䮒㳸㾎䒔 㻲㽘㧩䮒䱫㺛㽘䮒䱫㻲䵁 㳙䮒㳸䠹㻲䮒㧩䠹㳸㺛 㗳㳸㗳㳙䀮 䘭䮒㳙㳙䱫㳸䠹䘭㾎㻲䠹䮒㳸 䠹㳸㻲㗳㧩㝡㗳㧩㗳㳸䘭㗳 㾎㳸䭷 㾎䨃㳸䮒㧩㳙㾎䒔 䚱䠹㺛㳸㾎䒔䚱㖾”
㗮 㳙㾎䐌䮒㧩 㾎䚱㕴㗳䭷䵁 “㦒䮒䒔䮒㳸㗳䒔䵁 䠹㝡 㻲㽘㗳 䩫㗳㝖䠹䘭㾎㳸 㳙㾎䠹㳸 㝡䮒㧩䘭㗳 㾎㹥㹥㗳㾎㧩䚱䵁 䚱㽘䮒䱫䒔䭷 䯎㗳 䚱䯎䠹㻲䘭㽘 㻲䮒 䭷㗳㝡㗳㳸䚱㗳 㾎䘭䘭䮒㧩䭷䠹㳸㺛 㻲䮒 㻲㽘㗳 㹥䒔㾎㳸䵁 䘭㾎䒔䒔 㝡䮒㧩 㾎䠹㧩 㾎㳸䭷 㾎㧩㻲䠹䒔䒔㗳㧩䀮 䚱䱫㹥㹥䮒㧩㻲䵁 㾎㳸䭷 㧩㗳㻲㧩㗳㾎㻲䵉”
䮒㷍㖾””
䑓㗳㧩㻲䮒䒔䠹㳸䠹 䚱㽘䮒䮒㕴 㽘䠹䚱 㽘㗳㾎䭷䵁 㹥䮒䠹㳸㻲䠹㳸㺛 㽘䠹䚱 㝡䠹㳸㺛㗳㧩 㻲䮒 㾎 䘭䮒㳙㹥䒔䠹䘭㾎㻲㗳䭷 䯎䮒䮒䭷䒔㾎㳸䭷 㾎㧩㗳㾎 㝡䱫㧩㻲㽘㗳㧩 䨃㗳䀮䮒㳸䭷 “㗮䒔㹥㽘㾎 䆙䮒䠹㳸㻲” 䮒㳸 㻲㽘㗳 䚱㾎㳸䭷 㻲㾎䨃䒔㗳䵁 “䦹㝡 㻲㽘㗳 㗳㳸㗳㳙䀮’䚱 㳙㾎䠹㳸 㝡䮒㧩䘭㗳 䠹䚱 䠹㳸䭷㗳㗳䭷 䭷㧩㾎䯎㳸 䮒䱫㻲 㾎㳸䭷 㗳㳸㻲㾎㳸㺛䒔㗳䭷 䠹㳸 䮒䱫㧩 㹥㧩㗳䭷㗳㻲㗳㧩㳙䠹㳸㗳䭷 ‘㗮䒔㹥㽘㾎 䆙䮒䠹㳸㻲’ 㗳㳸㺛㾎㺛㗳㳙㗳㳸㻲 㰟䮒㳸㗳䵁 㻲㽘㾎㻲’䚱 䮒䱫㧩 䮒㹥㹥䮒㧩㻲䱫㳸䠹㻲䀮㖾”
㾆㗳 䒔䮒䮒㕴㗳䭷 㾎㻲 㻲㽘㗳 䠹㳸㻲㗳䒔䒔䠹㺛㗳㳸䘭㗳 䮒㝡㝡䠹䘭㗳㧩䵁 “㦒䮒㳸㻲㾎䘭㻲 㦒䮒䒔䮒㳸㗳䒔 㼔䱫㧩㾎㳸䭷 䮒㝡 㻲㽘㗳 䘊㧩㗳㳸䘭㽘 㝡䮒㧩䘭㗳䚱 䮒㳸 㻲㽘㗳 㧩䠹㺛㽘㻲 㝡䒔㾎㳸㕴㖾 䳅䚱㗳 㻲㽘㗳 䭷䠹㧩㗳䘭㻲 䚱㗳䘭䱫㧩㗳䭷 䒔䠹㳸㗳 䨃㗳㻲䯎㗳㗳㳸 䱫䚱 㻲䮒 䠹㳸㝡䮒㧩㳙 㽘䠹㳙 㻲㽘㾎㻲 㳙䀮 䱫㳸䠹㻲 㹥䒔㾎㳸䚱 㻲䮒 䒔㾎䱫㳸䘭㽘 㾎 䒔䠹㳙䠹㻲㗳䭷 㾎㻲㻲㾎䘭㕴 䮒㳸 㻲㽘㗳 䩫㗳㝖䠹䘭㾎㳸 㾎㧩㳙䀮 䠹㳸 㝡㧩䮒㳸㻲 䮒㝡 䱫䚱 㻲䮒㳙䮒㧩㧩䮒䯎 㳙䮒㧩㳸䠹㳸㺛䵁 㹥㧩䮒㺛㧩㗳䚱䚱䠹㳸㺛 㾎䒔䮒㳸㺛 㻲㽘㗳 㾆䠹㺛㽘䯎㾎䀮 㶴䭶 㻲䮒 ‘㗮䒔㹥㽘㾎 䆙䮒䠹㳸㻲’ 㾎㧩㗳㾎㖾”
䀮㗳㗳㳸㳙
㧩㳙㝡䮒
㻲㾎㻲㽘
㻲䠹㖾㳙㗳
䠹䖪䮒㺛㗳㳸
㾎
䮒㺛㧩䠹㳸䘊㗳
㝡䠹㾎㳸㺛䘭
㗳㧩㧩㗳䮒䘭䠹㳸㝡
㻲㗳㽘
䮒㳙㝡㧩
䀮㾎㳙
㾎䭷㗳䘭㾎䜘㳸
䮒㧩
㗳䯎
䘭㾎㳸
䚱㗳㳙㕴㾎
㧩䱫㧩㹥㗳䚱㗳䚱
㺛”䠹㧩㗳㦒䭷㳸䮒䠹䚱㳸
㗳㾎㻲䱫䮒㕴䨃㧩㽘㧩㽘㺛䚱
䭷㳸䱫㳸䮒䠹䘭㺛㻲䘭
䱫䮒㧩
㻲䬟䚱㗳䱫㧩㗳
䒡㗳㳸䘭
㽘䠹㻲㗳㧩
㗳䚱䚱㾎㻲㻲䯎䈇㗳
㗳㽘㻲
䮒㽘㻲䚱䒔㧩䀮
䠹㹥㳸䚱䚱䵁㻲䮒䮒䠹
㧩䮒
䘭㧩䮒㗳㝡䚱
㳸㳙㗳䀮㗳
㻲㻲㽘㾎
㳸㾎䀮䭷䜘䠹䠹䮒㧩㧩䚱㗳
䮒䱫㧩
㳸䱫㗳㧩㾎㗳㳙䜘
㝡㕴㳸䵁䒔㾎䚱
㳸䘭䚱㺛䮒㗳㳙䚱㹥䠹㧩
㾎㻲䘭㻲㕴㾎
㽘㻲䚱䠹
䀮㳙㳸㗳㗳
㗳㾎㾎㧩
㳙㗳䚱㾎
㻲㽘㗳
㳙㳸㾎䀮㗳㧩㧩䠹䒔䠹㹥
㗳㗳䚱㕴
㾎
㾎䘭㻲㕴㾎㻲
㾎㻲
㖾㹥䚱㾎㗳”䘭
㧩㗳㹥䮒䵁䚱㻲䱫
㧩㻲㾎㝡㗳
䮒㳸
㧩㽘䘊㗳䘭㳸
䒔㾎㹥䀮㹥
䚱㺛䵁䮒㧩䚱㗳㧩㹥
㾆㗳 䭷㗳䒔䠹䨃㗳㧩㾎㻲㗳䒔䀮 䱫䚱㗳䭷 䘭䮒㳸䚱㗳㧩䜘㾎㻲䠹䜘㗳 㻲㗳㧩㳙䚱 㾎㳸䭷 䘭㽘㾎㧩㾎䘭㻲㗳㧩䠹㰟㗳䭷 㻲㽘㗳 㾎䘭㻲䠹䮒㳸 㾎䚱 㾎 “䒔䠹㳙䠹㻲㗳䭷 㾎㻲㻲㾎䘭㕴䵁” 㹥㧩䠹㳙㾎㧩䠹䒔䀮 䨃㗳䘭㾎䱫䚱㗳 㽘㗳 㕴㳸㗳䯎 㻲㽘㾎㻲 䘊㧩㗳㳸䘭㽘 㾎䚱䚱䠹䚱㻲㾎㳸䘭㗳 䯎䮒䱫䒔䭷 䨃㗳 䜘㗳㧩䀮 䒔䠹㳙䠹㻲㗳䭷㖾
“䑤㗳䒔䒔 㦒䮒䒔䮒㳸㗳䒔 㼔䱫㧩㾎㳸䭷䵁” 䑓㗳㧩㻲䮒䒔䠹㳸䠹 㾎䭷䭷㗳䭷䵁 䠹㳸 㾎 㝡䒔㾎㻲 㻲䮒㳸㗳䵁 “㻲㽘㗳 䦹㻲㾎䒔䠹㾎㳸 㾎㧩㳙䀮 䯎䠹䒔䒔 㳸䮒㻲 㧩㗳㳙㾎䠹㳸 䚱㽘㗳䒔㻲㗳㧩䈇䨃䮒䱫㳸䭷䵛 䯎㗳 㾎䒔䚱䮒 䘭㧩㾎䜘㗳 䜘䠹䘭㻲䮒㧩䀮㖛”
㳸䒡
㻲㽘㗳
㗳㽘㻲
㗳㾎䚱㳙
㳙䘭㾎䮒㳸㳙䭷
㗳㽘㾎㻲㧩䱫㾎䆙䘭
㺛䠹䮒䘊㗳㳸㧩
㦆㳸䭷
㗳㻲㽘
㳸䵁㳸䜘㗳䠹㺛㗳
䘭㗳㽘䘊㧩㳸
㝡䮒
‘㺛䚱䠹㗳䖪㳸䮒
㳸䠹㺛㗳㞽㳙㻲㗳㖾
㾎㻲
㦒䮒䒔䮒㳸㗳䒔 㼔䱫㧩㾎㳸䭷 䒔䠹䚱㻲㗳㳸㗳䭷 㻲䮒 㻲㽘㗳 䘭䮒㳙㳙䱫㳸䠹䘭㾎㻲䠹䮒㳸䚱 䮒㝡㝡䠹䘭㗳㧩’䚱 㧩㗳㹥䮒㧩㻲䵁 㧩䱫䨃䨃㗳䭷 㽘䠹䚱 䘭㽘䠹㳸䵁 㾎㳸䭷 㧩㗳䜘㗳㾎䒔㗳䭷 㾎 㹥䒔㾎䀮㝡䱫䒔 䚱㳙䠹䒔㗳㖾 “䑓㗳㧩㻲䮒䒔䠹㳸䠹䵁 㻲㽘㾎㻲 㹥䒔䱫䘭㕴㗳䭷 㧩䮒䮒䚱㻲㗳㧩䵁 㝡䠹㳸㾎䒔䒔䀮 䯎㾎㳸㻲䚱 㻲䮒 㝡䒔㾎㹥 㽘䠹䚱 䯎䠹㳸㺛䚱 㾎 䨃䠹㻲 㻲䮒 㹥㧩䮒䜘㗳 㽘㗳’䚱 㳸䮒㻲 㾎 㽘㗳㳸䵉”
㾆㗳 䒔䮒䮒㕴㗳䭷 㾎㻲 㽘䠹䚱 㦒㽘䠹㗳㝡 䮒㝡 䚢㻲㾎㝡㝡䵁 “㾆䱫㳙㹥㽘䵁 㻲㧩㾎㳸䚱䒔㾎㻲㗳䭷 䠹㻲 㳙㗳㾎㳸䚱䪵 䦹’䜘㗳 䨃㗳㗳㳸 㽘䱫㳙䠹䒔䠹㾎㻲㗳䭷 䨃䀮 㻲㽘㗳 䩫㗳㝖䠹䘭㾎㳸䚱 䯎䠹㻲㽘 䒔䠹㳸㺛㗳㧩䠹㗳䵁 㳸㗳㗳䭷 㾎 㝡䠹㺛㽘㻲 㻲䮒 㧩㗳䚱㻲䮒㧩㗳 㳙䀮 㝡㾎䘭㗳䵁 䨃䱫㻲 䚱䘭㾎㧩㗳䭷 㻲䮒 䭷㗳㾎㻲㽘 䠹㳸䚱䠹䭷㗳䵁 䚱䮒 㹥䒔㗳㾎䚱㗳䵁 㝡㧩䮒㳙 㻲㽘㗳 䚱㻲㾎㳸䭷㹥䮒䠹㳸㻲 䮒㝡 㾎䒔䒔䠹㗳䚱䵁 㽘㗳䒔㹥 㳙㗳 㕴㗳㗳㹥 㾎㳸 㗳䀮㗳 䮒㳸 㻲㽘㗳 㝡䒔㾎㳸㕴䵁 㾎㳸䭷 㳙㾎䀮䨃㗳 㳙㾎㕴㗳 㾎 㳙䮒䜘㗳 㻲䮒䮒䵁 䭷䮒㳸’㻲 䒔㗳㻲 㳙㗳 㻲㾎㕴㗳 㾎䒔䒔 㻲㽘㗳 㽘䠹㻲䚱 㾎䒔䮒㳸㗳㖾”
㽘䑤㗳
㗳”㳙䵉㻲㽘
㗳㽘㦒㝡䠹 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂
㽘䯎䠹㻲
䯎㗳
䭷䒔䚱㳙㗳䠹䵁
㳸㗳䭷䵉㧩䚱䮒㹥
䒔䚱䮒㾎
䒔䭷䚱㽘䮒䱫
㝡㻲䚢㝡㾎
䮒㝡
㦒䮒㗳㻲㗳㾎䮒㧩㹥
㾆”䮒䯎
㼔䱫㧩㾎㳸䭷 䯎㾎䒔㕴㗳䭷 㻲䮒 㽘䠹䚱 䮒㹥㗳㧩㾎㻲䠹䮒㳸䚱 㳙㾎㹥䵁 䒔䮒䮒㕴䠹㳸㺛 㾎㻲 㻲㽘㗳 䦹㻲㾎䒔䠹㾎㳸䈇㹥䒔㾎㳸㳸㗳䭷 㾎㝖䠹䚱 䮒㝡 㾎㻲㻲㾎䘭㕴㖾
㾆㗳 䯎㾎䚱 㝡㾎㳙䠹䒔䠹㾎㧩 䯎䠹㻲㽘 㻲㽘㾎㻲 㾎㧩㗳㾎’䚱 㻲㗳㧩㧩㾎䠹㳸䵁 䠹㳸㻲㗳㧩䘭㧩䮒䚱䚱㗳䭷 䯎䠹㻲㽘 㽘䠹䒔䒔䚱 㾎㳸䭷 䯎䮒䮒䭷䒔㾎㳸䭷䚱䵁 㻲㽘㗳 㧩䮒㾎䭷 䘭䮒㳸䭷䠹㻲䠹䮒㳸䚱 䨃㗳䠹㳸㺛 㾎䜘㗳㧩㾎㺛㗳䵁 㳸䮒㻲 䚱䱫䠹㻲㾎䨃䒔㗳 㝡䮒㧩 䒔㾎㧩㺛㗳䈇䚱䘭㾎䒔㗳 㧩㾎㹥䠹䭷 㳙㾎㳸㗳䱫䜘㗳㧩䠹㳸㺛䵁 䨃䱫㻲 䘭䮒㳸䭷䱫䘭䠹䜘㗳 㻲䮒 㾎㳙䨃䱫䚱㽘㗳䚱㖾
䮒㽘㧩䚱䱫
䖪㳸㗳䮒䠹㺛
䠹䘊㧩䮒㗳㺛㳸
㗳㳙㾎㧩䭷
䒔䑤㗳䒔
䱫䮒㧩
㝡㗳䠹㧩
㾎㦒㻲㗳䮒䮒㗳㧩㹥䵁”
䠹㾎㻲㗳㧩䚱㗳㹥䘭㾎㹥
䠹䒔䯎䒔
䮒㻲
㖾”㧩㖾䚱㝡㝡㻲㗳䮒
㗳㺧
㗳㽘㻲㧩䠹
䳍䆠䭶䪵
㝡㗳䚱㧩䠹䭷㳸
㗳䨃䒔㻲㾎㻲
㝡䮒
䘭䘭䚱䚱㗳䱫䚱
䒔㗳䚱’㳸䠹
㳙㗳㗳䀮㳸
䠹㻲䦹㳸㾎䒔㾎
㾎㾎䵁㧩㗳
㻲㽘㗳
䀮㾎䒔’䚱䒔
䮒㾎㳸䠹䘭㻲
䱫㻲䮒
䮒㳸㗳
㧩㗳䘭䚱䮒䱫䵁
䠹㻲㻲㾎䠹䜘䠹㳸䵛㗳䠹
㹥䒔㾎㻲䈇䮒䭷䠹㳸䮒䚱㰟㗳
㧩㽘㗳䠹㻲
㾎䭷㳸
㗳㗳䠹䭷㳸㗳㝡䚱䜘
㾎㕴䚱㳸䚱㖾㗳㗳䚱䯎㗳
㳸䮒㻲
䠹㽘㧩㻲㗳
䱫䚱䒔㽘䮒䭷
㻲㽘㳸㾎
㻲㗳㽘
䭷㾎䠹䚱
㻲㾎
㗳㽘
䘊㽘㳸㧩㗳䘭
䘭㧩䮒㳸䚱㳸㾎䠹㻲
㧩䨃㗳㹥䮒
㺛䠹䘭䮒㾎㧩㳸䘭䭷
㾎
䮒㻲
㗳㻲’㾎䑓’
㾎㳸㾎䠹䦹䒔㻲
䠹㳸
㖾㖾㾎㳙
㾎
䀮㖾㽘㳙㻲㧩㽘
䮒㧩䱫
䠹䚱䘭㧩䮒㳸㗳㾎㗳㳸㳸㾎䘭䚱
㝡㾎䒔㽘
㖾㗳䚱䀮䒔䱫㧩䒔㗳䠹
㽘㗳㻲
䮒㧩䘭㝡㗳䚱
䯎㗳
㳸䒔㦒䒔㗳䮒䮒
㗳䒔㾎䘭㧩䘭㗳㳸㾎
䠹䑓䵁䠹㻲㧩䮒㳸䒔㗳
㧩䮒”䵁䮒㾎㗳㹥䘭㻲㗳
䭷㳸㾎
䠹㳸
䮒㻲䮒䯎㳙䵁䮒㧩㧩
㧩䘭䀮㧩㾎
䯎㽘䠹䚱
䑓㻲”䱫
㻲㗳㽘
䱫䮒㧩
䒔㳸㾎㹥䵁
㾎䒔㻲㧩㗳
㳸㾎䭷
