History (102 page)

. . the Red army is advancing towards Sinkiang

506 H I S T O R Y
. . .
.
. .
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th
e Creel�
government
has ordered a lar
g
e-scale round-up of

.
. In Washington, the House of Representatives . . .

.
. Prime Mini
ster
Pella announces that the government . . . spe
cial
taxes . . . indirect taxation of .
. .

"Shall we have a race? See who gets across the bridge fi Davide proposed, when they reached the beginning of Ponte Sublicio.

The challenge was accepted. Bella won. Davide, breathless as he was, came second, with his long legs; and Useppe, though good at running, was left behind, because of his small size. At the fi line, however, both were received with equal celebration by Bella. Useppe, giddy from the game, though the loser, arrived laughing like a madman; and Davide, leaning against the railing, gasping, also laughed, totally carefree. It is a fact that, after having started across the bri in jest, he suddenly, without meaning to, began to race seriously (especially striving against Bella ), like a kid who in some contest forgets his homework and every other earthly concern. And a gust of that illogical wind swelled his lungs for perhaps ten seconds. Tben he went on laughing for a long time, but already a piercing incredu li ty, in nervous shocks, was punctuating his thoughtless laughter.

"How about playing Chinese Morra?" he suggested to Useppe. "Esssss!"

To tell the truth, Useppe didn't know this game; and Davide took the time to explain it to him. However, Useppe, when they actually got into it, did nothing but get confused, his hands moving happily, confusing the sign for
paper
with that for
stone,
or extending three fi instead of two for
scissors
. . . This stupidity of his sent him into gales of laughter, revealing his twenty teeth, like grains of rice . . . Davide also laughed, and his face, as he looked at Useppe, reopened in that luminous relief, fi with fri with which he had hailed the child's entrance into the tavern. Suddenly he grabbed his hand and, gazing at it, gave it a little kiss, with the simplicity and childish innocence of someone kissing a holy picture. And Useppe promptly kissed him, too; but as Davide moved, this kiss landed on his nose. The trivial incident was enough to arouse the hilarity of all, Bella included. The fi to become serious again was Davide: "You," he said to Useppe, with an almost bitter gravity, "are so pretty that the very fact you exist makes me happy at times. You could make me believe in . . . in everything! EVERYTHING! You're too pretty for this world."

Uscppe, however, rather than appreciate Davide's compliment, had noticed the shift in his humor, which from merry suddenly, had turned grim. "Now what game']] we play?" he urged.

"That's enough now."

". . . No . . . More!" Useppe protested, in a tone between pleading

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and complaining. Davide meanwhile was moving away from the railing. "Here," he declared, "is where we separate. I go one way, and you two, another."

Useppe swayed. "Wy," he proposed boldly, "don't you come and eat supper at our house, with us? Mamma's made meatballs for supper

and . . . and there's wine, too!"

"No, no, another time. I'm not hungry this evening." "Where're you going now? To sleep?"

"Yes, to sleep." Davide started off with his lanky and now exhausted gait. An inexpressive dullness had spread over his eyes.

"We'll walk you to your door," Useppe decided. The sheepdog, though puzzled, didn't object. And Davide, more out of laziness than for any other reason, let them come. For the two vagabonds, actually, the supper hour was now striking and, indeed, behind Davide's steps, a kind of debate was going on between the couple, which reached him only in the form of canine whining. Bella, in fact, also out of her respect for punctual ity, still insisted on inviting him to supper; and among the other argu ments, she wanted to inform him that at their house, besides the meat dish already promised, with vegetable, etc., there was also soup. She was refer ring, specifi ally, to her own evening mush (composed of leftover spa ghetti, cheese rinds, water, bits of tomato and other ingredients). But in the end Useppe, with eloquent if mute signals, discouraged her from insist ing. What kind of attraction, for a great guest like Davide, could a dog's bowl of mush be?

Such a weariness had come over Davide that his house, perhaps an other fi yards away, seemed to him a remote and somehow yearned-for destination. But at the same time, he was gnawed by a kind of nostalgia : like a boy ( the same one who, a little earlier, had become involved in the bridge race? ) forced to come home when the daylight, outside, wasn't yet gone. But who was forcing him? He could fi no answer to such questions except a threatening, irreparable negation.

Also from the familiar tavern this side of the hovels, the radio's voice was emerging as usual. Now it was broadcasting some names of cities, and some numbers : I suppose they were the lottery drawings. Of the inhabi tants of the hovels, the majority had not yet come home; there was only a little group of women with three or four tiny babies; and from some point, to greet Bella, two dogs came running, a pair. One, already encountered previously, was the dog that resembled a monkey; and the other, a new comer, seemed a composite of various animals, with a generally agreeable result. (To Useppe's considerable relief, the famous Wolf was again ab sent: he was obviously on an outing with his master. ) Bella returned the pair's greeting, though
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great haste, moving off to study the evening

508 H I S T O R Y
. .
.
. . .
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odors of the area; but soon, with a solicitous mien, she came back to Useppe, dragging her leash after her in the dust.

Davide's inner restlessness, combatting his exhausted body, kept him in that unnerving state produced by certain poisonings or, at times, by hunger: a kind of low no-man's-land, between the outskirts of reason and those of dreaming, where you are tormented in a wretched confi In sight of the fi hovels, he happened to close his eyes, with the wish to see nothing but black; then, reopening them, he didn't at fi recognize the usual landscape, and he asked himself : "\V have I got to?" He was assailed by certain stupid popular tunes, alternating with a sentimental poem written by himself in his schooldays, which began with the verse : "I love you, Happiness!" And mixed with these torments were fi titles or other random phrases, at present empty, for him, as burst balloons :
The Maginot Line, Gilda, The Bargain Center, Simun the wind of the desert, a Fascist of the first days
. .
.
In the last stretch towards the room, he mechanically began to walk faster, though the idea of shutting himself up in there now revolted him. Useppe, his eyes raised towards him, hurried after him.

"Wy
are you going to sleep so early?"

"Because I'm sick," Davide explained laughing. And worn out, as he hunted in his pocket for the key, he sat down on the ground, his back against the door.

"You're sick . . ." Useppe said, pensive, but asking no explanation. He was on the point, rather, of telling him
(
as if to boast of being a colleague
)
that he too was
sick,
but he restrained himself in time. He was, in fact, suddenly afraid that Davide, too, if he had learned of this bad sickness, would perhaps avoid him like other people.

He decided, instead, to ask him : "What did you do to your arm "A mosquito bit me."

With diffi Davide had fi the key from the pocket of his pants; but an extreme heaviness of his muscles kept him sprawled there on the ground, lingering outside his own door, like a beggar. And still unable to bring himself to stand, he started banging his fi on the closed door. Then, assuming a deep bass voice, like someone speaking from inside, he said :
Who's
there?-immediately answering, in his normal voice, announc ing himself: it's me!-Me, who?-Davide Segre. And who are you?-
Me
!!
Segre
Davide!-And what are you doing in there?-
Sleeping
. .
.

Useppe laughed at this new game, though observ the opening of the door with some anxiety. In the deserted little room, the panes of the little window were also closed : so there was a stagnant odor of sleep, as if somebody had really been lying there for several hours. Otherwise, the fi

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and the disorder seemed even more tumultuous than the other time, like the aftermath of an invasion. Davide sat down, slumping on the unmade cot : "Now," he announced to Useppe, "it's time for us to say goodnight." "It's still day . . ." Useppe pointed out, hesitating on the threshold

of the little room. He had picked Bella's leash up from the ground, while she had sat down outside, near the open door, patiently waiting. Only, every now and then, she gave the leash a little tug, to insist:
It's late. We have to be going,
and Useppe, dissatisfi would tug the leash from his end, in reply. He couldn't bring himself to leave Davide here alone, sick, and with no supper; but he didn't know what to say to him, and he swayed on his legs.