The House by the Medlar-Tree by Giovanni Verga

That was a black Christmas for the Malavoglia. Just then Luca had to draw his number for the Conscription -- a low number, too, like a poor devil as he was -- and he went off without many tears; they were used to it by this time. This time, also, ‘'Ntoni accompanied his brother, with his cap over his ear, so that it seemed as if it were he who was going away, and he kept on saying that it was nothing, that he had been for a soldier himself. That day it rained, and the street was all one puddle.

"I don't want you to come with me," repeated Luca to his mother; "the station is a long way off. " And he stood at the door watching the rain come down on the medlar-tree, with his little bundle under his arm. Then he kissed the hands of his mother and his grandfather, and embraced Mena and the children.