Character Analysis
The comrade is a young Hungarian man who's had a bad time of it under the Whites in Budapest, but managed to escape to Italy. We don't know what exactly happened to him, where he is ultimately headed (though we know he's trying to make his way to Switzerland), or why. So in these regards, he remains a bit of a mystery to both the narrator and the reader. You know what? We'll go one step further and say he's a lot of a mystery.
This doesn't mean we don't know anything about him, though. Specifically, we know he has no money, and instead gets by with a piece of oilcloth from Communist headquarters that says he has suffered in Budapest and asks other comrades to help him out. Luckily, they do, and the young man makes his way through Italy on the railroads, enjoying the beautiful countryside and doing a fair amount of touring along the way—lots of towns, lots of people, lots of pretty paintings. But Mantegna's artwork he does not like.
Who cares whether he likes Mantegna or not? Well, we do. And here's why: We're told this about the comrade twice. And in a story that prizes itself on economy of language (hey there, eight paragraphs), this means this information matters—big time. So what gives?
There are plenty of ways to interpret the young man's distaste—scholars have had a field day with this one, and none of them seem to really agree (oh, scholars). However, one thing is certain: The narrator likes Mantegna; he brings his paintings up to the comrade before they part ways and the young man heads toward Milan. This repetition of the comrade's dislike for Mantegna, then, establishes clear difference between him and the narrator. They may travel together, but in matters of taste, these two are not on the same page.
Mantegna isn't the only way that the young man is marked as different from the narrator, though. When the comrade meets the narrator in Bologna, he asks about the state of the Communist movement in Italy and—after being told things aren't looking so hot—he goes on to express confidence that the world revolution will start in Italy anyway, since " It is the one country that everyone is sure of. It will be the starting point for everything" (6). The comrade is optimistic and naïve, which is clear in the face of the narrator's stoic pessimism.
And remember: The comrade isn't just hopeful about the revolution, he has faith despite having lived through some particularly terrible (though un-described) experiences. He is that dedicated to Communism, which emerges as a sort of blind idealism given the narrator's clear declaration that the commies are losing.
The two men part ways as the comrade is looking forward to passing through the mountains into Switzerland. This guy clearly really loves nature—"his mind was already looking forward to walking over the pass. […] He loved the mountains in the autumn" (8)—and this eager anticipation of wandering freely can be read as representing his free-spiritedness. He likes what he likes and he believes what he believes—his mind roams freely, and he looks forward to his body doing the same.
Unfortunately, the Swiss jail the young comrade, putting a stop to his journey. But, once again, we have no idea why… and we suspect that, if he and the narrator were to bump into each other somehow, they both might have different interpretations. Ah, youth.