Free A Soldier of the Great War by Mark Helprin

of Pope Leo the Tenth, the four-eyed son of Lorenzo de Medici, the one who expelled Martin Luther."
    "I don't know any of those guys," Nicolò said.
    "That's all right. I don't either."
    "Except Saint Jerome. I know the saints."
    "That's good. Whose day is it today?"
    "I don't know."
    "I thought you did."
    "Not like that I don't. You think the Pope knows?"
    "I'd bet on it."
    "So what saint?"
    "I'm not the Pope, but today is the ninth of August. Saint Romanus, I believe. He was a Byzantine."
    Nicolò, who had never heard the word
Byzantine,
said, "That's too bad."
    "Where's the water?" Alessandro asked. "And the chocolate."
    "My father says that if you eat too much chocolate, you turn black."
    "That's undoubtedly true," Alessandro answered. "After all, chocolate comes from Africa, and Africans are black. But what about Switzerland? A lot of chocolate comes from Switzerland."
    "So?"
    "Are the Swiss black?"
    "They're not?"
    "Well what do you think?"
    "I don't know," Nicolò offered, obviously confused. Taking the water bottle from Alessandro's briefcase and placing it carefully on the flat slab, he asked, "Is Switziland in Africa?"
    "You mean
Swaziland?
"
    "
Switziland?"
Nicolò insisted.
    Alessandro felt his heart pounding against his chest. His breath came slowly. "What did you say?" he asked.
    Nicolò struggled to envision the world. "Which is the one that has an ocean, Africa or Peru?"
    "Let's start closer to home," Alessandro said. "First, name the countries of Europe."
    "What are they?"
    "I'm asking you."
    "Asking me what?"
    "What are the countries of Europe?"
    "They're countries," Nicolò said.
    "Name them."
    "Italy, of course..."
    "Excellent."
    "France."
    "Yes."
    "Germany, Spain, Ireland, and Mahogany."
    "Mahogany?"
    "It's a country, isn't it? It's in Brazil."
    "It isn't, but keep going."
    "Is Germany a country?"
    "Yes, but you've said it already."
    "There are more?"
    Alessandro nodded.
    "Is there one called Great Dane?"
    "When you get back to Rome," Alessandro said gravely, "you must look at a map. Haven't you ever seen a map of the world?"
    "Yes I have, but I don't know what it says. I can't read."
    "You can't read at all?"
    "No, not even my own name. I told you, I never went to school."
    "You have to learn to read. They'll teach you at the factory."
    "They say I have to read before I become an apprentice, and they say they'll teach me. I'm supposed to go to a place in Monte Sacro. It's okay. I can do numbers. I can do numbers very well. Look! The moon."
    Alessandro turned to the east. His cane clattered down upon the rock as he caught sight of a tiny orange dome, rising coolly, unlike the molten sunrise, from behind the farthest line of hills.
    The arc rapidly turned into a silent half circle, spying upon them with its old and tired face. It had about it the air of being intensely busy, as if its occupation with the task of floating in perfect orbits had made it justly self-absorbed.
    "The whole world stops as this stunning dancer rises," Alessandro said, "and its beauty puts to shame all our doubts."
    It
is
like a dancer, Nicolò thought, as the perfectly round moon began to float airily above the silhouetted hills it had begun to illumine. "So smooth," he said.
    "Without saying anything, it says so much," Alessandro continued. "In that sense, it's better than the sun, which is always holding forth, and butting at you like a ram."
    Because of Alessandro's spectacles, Nicolò was able to see that the moon had mountains and seas. His sudden apprehension of the moon, so close and full, riding over them like a huge airship, endeared it to him forever. For perhaps the first time in his life he was lifted entirely outside himself and separated from his wants. As he contemplated the huge smoldering disc he was easily able to suspend time and the sensation of gravity, and a sort of internal electricity overflowed within him. It came in waves, and grew stronger and stronger as the moon glided from orange and