History (43 page)

The sisters-in-law, arriving at this point, had time to glimpse him as he left; Carulina, however, valorously braving their interrogation, refused to repeat the message. This silence cost her an eff so great it actually made the veins in her neck swell; but the test, luckily for her, was not imposed long. No more than a quarter of an hour after the monk's departure, Carlo Vivaldi, perhaps alerted by some presage, reappeared, off schedule, in the big room. Carull quickly rushed towards him, shouting in a loud voice, "There was a monk here asking for you . . ." and he started, visibly. His face and hair wet with rain, he resembled at that point a sparrow battered by the bad weather. Without a word, he turned his back and rushed out into the road again.

In his absence, several conjectures followed, among Carolina's grand mothers and sisters-in-law. At that time, every adventure story became true to life. It really happened, for example, that high offi ers or well-known political figures disguised themselves in various ways to foil the search of the occupying enemies. And the women conjectured, among other things, that the monk was a false monk, perhaps a disguised anarchist, or even some generalissimo of the loftiest circles.

Instead, the man really was a poor simple monk, sent by a Roman convent where a distant cousin of Carlo's was hidden at present. Because of his proud ideals, Carlo was revolted at the thought of taking refuge in a convent. He preferred to remain without a fi address, and so correspon dence and news from the North were sent to him through the little cousin. Now, today's news, awaiting him, was of the most atrocious sort. But the truth about him was learn only later.

Meanwhile, the curfew hour passed without his showing up again. And the inhabitants of the room inferred that, after the mysterious monk's visit, he had vanished forever. In their eyes, Carlo Vivaldi was still an ambiguous and strange adventurer: perhaps in the service of some foreign power? or connected with the Vatican? The mother of Currado and Im pero even advanced the hypothesis that he was a nobleman incognito, in attendance on His Majesty the King-Emperor, and that by now he had

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probably already flown to Brindisi or to Bari, on a special plane placed at his disposal by the Pope . . .

Instead, Carlo Vivaldi was not far away, perhaps in that same neigh borhood, or perhaps in some other undefi neighborhood of the city, wandering alone through the rainy streets, immersed in the blackout's darkness, infested by patrols. From the moment that aftern when his cousin had given him the
secret urgent news
until late at night, he did nothing but roam the streets, without choosing any direction, or knowing what time it was, or caring about the curfew. There's no telling how he escaped the dangers of that aimless walk : protected, perhaps, by the in superable barricade of outrage and delirium that at times surrounds the desperate. We can believe the armed patrols out searching crossed his path several times that night, all of them, however, turning away and stifl their
who goes there?
for fear of off his shade.

He himself could never have said where he was taken by that measure less walk of miles and time uncalculated (perhaps nine or ten hours ). He may have gone from one end of the city to the other, or he may have continued roaming in a confi space, always the same, back and forth. At a certain hour of the night he went back to take refuge in his only

available lodging, at Pietralata, behind the curtain of rags. All wer
e
asleep;

the only one who heard him come in was Ida, who had a hard time falling asleep on those nights, even with her pills, and stirred at the slightest rustle. First she heard his footsteps on the path, then the prolonged meow of Rossella, who bade him welcome at the door. And afterwards, for the rest of the night, she thought she could hear him coughing constantly amidst a repetition of dull thuds, as if he were beating his fi against the wall.

In fact, the next morning, his knuckles were all skinned and bleeding, but nobody in the big room had time to observe them. It so happened that around eight, Giuseppe Secondo turned up, on one of his periodical hasty visits. He came in with his usual jovial manner, bringing excellent news again today: Ace of Hearts was fi so was Quattropunte, and so were all the comrades of the glorious band . . . Thanks to them, another ton or so of evil German meat had been sent to fertilize the earth of the Castelli

. . . A week ago, the Germans had attempted a round-up of partisans, with some losses; but they, of the
Liberty
( the band's code name) were too smart to let those cowards catch them . . . And as for predictions for the future, beyond doubt the war's end was imminent. Of course, they could no longer count on the Allies entering Rome on October 28th . . . "It would of been a clever trick, of course; that would of spoiled their celebra tion, all right! . . ." However, before Christmas, it was a sure thing, Giu seppe Secondo concluded.

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After such brilliant confi es, the merry little man rummaged for a few more minutes in the heap of his belongings; and then with a broad wave of goodbye to left and right, he headed for the door. At that point the rag curtain was yanked violently; and Carlo, with vehemence, as if he were going to tear it apart, emerged from behind it with a great laugh. "I'm coming with you! . . . With your band!" he said abruptly. He al ready had his bag over his shoulder-all his luggage, in other words. In the light that fell obliquely through the half-open door, his gaze, from eyes hollowed and shadowed by insomnia, seemed deeper, more grim than usual. And following his laugh, which had left an almost obscene echo in the air, the obscure corruption, returning at interv in his face, now actually transfi it, like a twisted mask. However, from all this, into the muscles of his body there poured a kind of unleashed, athletic gaiety. Giuseppe Secondo, dumbfounded for an instant, brightened with a smile of rejoicing, which made wrinkles all over his face: "Ah! High time!" he cried, and added nothing else. Going out with him, Carlo Vivaldi waved a half-ironic farewell behind him, as if to say that this room, too, with all its occupants, was now dissolving for him into the foam of the dead past. Though Rossella followed him with her little eyes from the pallet, he forgot even to say goodbye to her.

The clouds had shredded; but in the cool wind that was beginning to rise, there were still brief, passing showers, springlike. Giuseppe Secondo no longer wore his famous hat on his head; however, he protected himself with an umbrella; and those remaining laughed at it behind his back ( truly, a partisan with an umbrella was a rather odd thing). And so the two went off together, beyond the muddy field : the old man walking briskly, under the umbrella; and the young man preceding him with his lanky, somewhat uneven gait, like the walk of certain young blacks.

At their departure, Rossella had hastened to the door. And now, motionless on her four paws by the step of the threshold, she watched them go away, her nose extended towards them in an expression of sur prise, already alarmed, as if she could sense that a signal of her destiny was stri at this moment. Nevertheless, in the hours that followed she couldn't help seeking Carlo; in some way, however, she must have known from the beginning she would never see him again. And she tried not to be caught in that ridiculous search of hers, wanderi in the vicinity of the curtain with a sidelong, evasive walk, slipping away menacingly whenever anybody came near her. Then she went and hid under the pile of desks, and she stayed there for the rest of the day, fl between two planks, in a comer where nobody could reach her, fi her suspicious pupils on the bustle of the room.

As evening fell, when everyone had forgotten about her, suddenly she

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let out a strange, uneasy meow, and she came from beneath the pile, drifting about, with that unfamiliar lament, which was crying : help help. She was driven by a stimulus of terrible strength, which she had never experienced before. And then she went to settle in her straw hole behind the curtain, where, a little later, she gave birth to a kitten.

Nobody was expecting it, since they hadn't noticed she was pregnant. And it was, in fact, a single, scrawny male off so tiny it seemed to belong to the race of mice rather than of cats. Though new at this, and still young herself, she promptly got busy, teari the membrane from it with impatient, almost angry bites, already expert, like all mother cats. And then she began to lick it in furious haste, like all mother cats, until the kitten gave out his fi meow, so faint he sounded like a mosquito. Then she huddled over him, perhaps confi that she could nurse him. But prob ably because of her too many fasts, as well as her immaturity, her teats were dry. Abruptly, suddenly, she moved away from him, looking at him with pensive curiosity. And she went off and curled up on her own, at a certain distance, where she remained a bit longer, idle, her eyes aware, fi with melancholy, no longer replying to that lonely little mewing. Then all at once she pricked up her ears, having caught the familiar voices of Caruli's brothers coming home; and as she heard the front door open, casting a last indiff look towards the kitten, she was quick to spring from behind the curtain into the road.

She didn't show up again that evening or the next day, while the kitten lay dying in the straw, from which he could hardly be distinguished because of his fur's reddish color, inherited from his mother. Every time the racket in the room died down for a brief interval his faint mewing could be heard again, continuing almost uninterruptedly. It seemed strange that this wisp of a voice ( the only sign of his presence-you might say-he gave in the world ) could maintain such resistance : as if inside that imper ceptible li ttle animal, already doomed from the start, an enormous will to live was contained. Useppe couldn't make up his mind to leave the kitten abandoned to his orphan lament; crouched there on the fl not daring to touch him, he observed every slight movement with anxious eyes. And looking out into the street a hundred times he called desperately : "Ossella! Ossellaaa!!" But Rossella made no reply, and wandering by now who knows where, she had perhaps already forgotten she had borne a son. As the hours passed, meanwhile, the mewing behind the curtain became more and more timid, until it was silent, and a little later, a sister-in-law of Carulina's came to take a look, picked up the kitten by the tail, and cursing its unnatural mother, went to throw it in the latrine.

Useppe, at that moment, was busy making a rumpus with his friends in The Thousand's comer. And when, coming back to see the kitten

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behind the curtain again, he no longer found it, he didn't ask for news of it. He stood there, silent, staring with big, grave eyes at that little straw lair, stained with Rossella's blood. And he never spoke of it again with Ida, or with anyone. A minute later, distracted by some trifl he fl himself into playing once more.

Rossella didn't come home for three days; then on the afternoon of the third day, perhaps only because driven by hunger, she turn up again in the room. "Ah, you dirty, nasty, awful thing!" the women screamed at her, "aren't you ashamed to show your face in here, after you let your baby die all alone like that?!" She en tered running, grim, not looking at anyone. Who knows what she had gone through in those days? Her fur was worn yellowed, fi like an old eat's; and her body was so emaciated that, now she was no longer pregnant, in the place of her fl she had two holes. Her tail was reduced to a stri and her muzzle had become an acute triangle, with enormous ears, dilated eyes, gaping mouth, and bared teeth. She had become even smaller than before; and in the expression of her face, she looked like certain dejected pickpockets who have grown old and do nothing but steer clear of all other living creatures, having known only hatred. At fi she went and huddled under a desk, but since the kids made a great eff to dislodge her from there, she darted away, and with a bound of her skeletal body, she reached the top of the pile, where she remained perched like an owl. She was on her guard, her ears flat, her bloodshot eyes staring menacingly down. And every now and then she hissed, convinced that in this guise she was presenting herself as a terrify ing creature, to keep the whole world at bay. At that moment, her instinct was attracted by something moving down below, in midair, towards the corner of The Thousand. She was the fi to notice it, and immediately it was too late to forestall her. Her speed was such that, at fi she gave the impression of a red ray cutting the air obliquely; and already, in place of the two fl canari she had left two bloody little rags on the ground.

Almost with the same fantastic speed, at once, as she was frightened by the yells and insults that assailed her from all sides, she ran off again into the road from which she had arrived. Three or four of them chased her, indignant, to give her a beating; but they couldn't catch her, and were barely able to glimpse in the distance her wasted tail disappearing precipi tously down a slope. And after that nobody ever saw her again. It's possible that, thin as she was, she still whetted the appetite of some neighborhood ca in those days of hunger. Having lost her former agility, in her decline, perhaps she let herself be fatally caught and ended up eaten, as her own Giuseppe Secondo had foretold, when putting her on her guard.

With reproaches, Caruli was also blamed for the massacre of the canari It had been she, in fact, who had carelessly left their cage door

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open; she had been distracted by Rossella's unexpected, apparition just as she was busy cleaning it out. Peppiniello and Peppiniella, perhaps for the fi time in their existence, and perhaps mindful of their ancestors free in the Canary Islands, had let themselves be tempted by adventure; but unskilled in fl having been born in captivity, they had managed only to fl awkwardly in the air, as if they were two fl