 Section 11 of the late Mathia Pascal by Luigi Pirandello, translated by Arthur Livingston. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please contact LibriVox.org. Chapter 11. Night and the River. The more intimate my relations with the family became through the respect Palaeare had for my judgment and the personal good will he was always evincing toward me. The more uneasy I felt in my own mind. My secret misgivings often amounting to acute remorse that I should be making my way into that home under an assumed name, under an actual disguise, with a wholly fictitious personality, if indeed I were a person at all. I was ever resolving to hold myself as much aloof as possible, trying continually to remember that I could have no share in other people's lives, that I must shun intimate contacts and do the best I could with my own solitary existence apart. I am free, I would keep repeating to myself. I am free. But I was already beginning to understand the meaning and the limits of such freedom. At present, for instance, it meant my unquestioned right to sit of an evening at the window of my room, looking out upon the river, as it flowed black and silent between its new walls of granite, down under the bridges which spangled the water with wriggling serpents of flame from their many lights. And my fancy would run back along the stream to its distant sources in the hills, whence it came down across fields and meadows, fields and meadows, to reach the city in front of me, passing on into fields and meadows again, till at last it reached the dark palpitating sea. What did it do when it got there? Poooh, a yawn, this freedom, this freedom. But yet would I be better off anywhere else? On the balcony nearby I would see some evenings the little housemother in her big dress, busily watering her potted plants. There is living for you, I would say to myself, watching the child in her affectionate attentions to the flowers she loved, and hoping that sooner or later she would lift her eyes toward my window. She never did. She knew that I was there, but whenever she was alone she pretended not to notice. Why? Shiness, perhaps. Or was she nursing a secret grudge against me because I so obstinately refused to see in her anything more than the child she was? Ah, now she is setting the watering pot on the floor. Her work is done. She is standing there, her arms resting on the parapet of the balcony, looking out over the river as I am doing, perhaps to show me that she is quite indifferent as to whether I exist or not. Because, I should say so, because a woman with her responsibilities has very serious thoughts of her own to ponder, yes indeed. Hence that meditative pose, hence a need for solitude for her as well. And I smiled at my own idea of her. But afterwards, as I saw her vanish suddenly from the balcony, I wondered, might my guess not be wrong, the fruit of the instinctive vexation we feel at seeing ourselves taken as a matter of course? And yet, why not? Why should she notice me? Why should she speak to me unless she has to? What do I stand for in this house unless it be the misfortune that has overtaken her, her father's incompetence and folly, her humiliation personified? When her father still had his position in the service, she did not need to let her rooms and have outsiders about the house, especially outsiders like me, and outsider with the cockey and blue glasses. The noise of a wagon pounding across the wooden bridge nearby would rouse me from my reverie. I would rise from my seat at the window, puffing an exclamation of nausea through my closed lips. Here was my bed, and here my books. Which, with the shrug of the shoulders, I would catch up my hat, jam it down on my head, and go out of the house, hoping to find in the street some diversion from my galling tedium. The walk I chose would depend upon the inspiration of the moment. Now I would seek the most crowded thoroughfares, then again some deserted solitary quarter. One night I remember I went to the square of St. Peter's, and I remember also the weird impression of unreality I got from that eon old world enfolded by the two arms of the portico, a world illumined by a strange dream light engulfed in a majestic silence only emphasized by the crash of water in the two fountains. In one of these I dipped my hands. Yes, here was something tangible, the cold I could feel. All the rest was spectral, insubstantial, deeply melancholy in a silent motionless solemnity. Returning along the borgo nuovo, I happened on a drunken man whom my sober, thoughtful mood seemed to strike as something funny. He approached me on tiptoe, squatted down so as to look up into my face, touched me cautiously on the elbow, and finally shouted, Cheer up, brother, let's see you crack a smile. I looked at the man from head to foot, hardly awake as yet to what had happened. And again he said, but in a confidential whisper, Cheer up, brother, to hell with it all, just forget it, crack a smile. Then he moved along supporting his tottering form against the wall. There in that solitary place under the very shadow of the great sanctum, the fortuitous appearance of that drunken man, giving me his strangely intimate and strangely profound advice seemed to daze me. I stood looking after him till he disappeared in the dark. Then I burst into a loud, harsh, bitter laugh. Cheer up. Yes, brother, but I can't roll from tavern to tavern as you were doing, looking for happiness as you were doing at the bottom of a mug of wine. I should never find it there nor anywhere else. I go to the cafe, my dear sir, where I find respectable people, smoking and talking politics. Cheer up, you say. But my dear sir, people can be happy only on one condition. I'm quoting you a reactionary who frequents my respectable cafe. On the condition, namely, that we be governed by a good old fashioned absolutist. You are only a poor beggar, my dear sir. You know nothing about such things. But it's the fact nevertheless. What's the trouble with people like me? Why are we so glum? Democracy, my dear sir. Democracy. Government by the majority. When you have one boss, he knows that it's his job to satisfy many people. But when everybody has a say in running things, everybody thinks of satisfying himself. And what do we get? Tyranny, my dear sir, in its most stupid form. Tyranny masked as liberty. Of course you do. What do you think it's a matter with me? Just what I say. Tyranny disguised as liberty. Let's go home again. But that was to be a night of adventures. I was going through the dimly light at Dordinona district when I heard smothered cries coming from a dark alley off my street. And then there was a rush of people engaged in a rough and tumble, four men, as it proved, using heavy canes on a woman of the sidewalks. Now I mentioned this little episode not to show what a brave man I can be on occasion, but just to tell how frightened I was at some of its consequences. When I interfered, they turned on me, four against one, and two with their knives out. I had a good stocky cane myself, and I swung it around, jumping about a good deal to avoid an attack from behind. At last the metal knob of my cane reached one of my antagonists full on the head. He staggered away and finally took to his heels. Since the woman had been screaming at the top of her lungs, the other three thought it was time to be going, too. I don't remember exactly how I got a deep cut in the middle of my forehead. My first thought was to get the woman quieted down. But when she saw the blood streaming over my face, she began to shout for help louder than ever, trying also to wipe my wound with a silk handkerchief she had removed from her neck. No, let me alone for heaven's sake, I protested in disgust. Get away from here at once. I'm all right. They'll be arresting you. I hurried to a fountain on the bridge nearby to wash the blood from my eyes. But by this time two policemen had come running up, and they insisted on knowing what all the noise was about. The woman who was a neapolitan and liked to dramatize in the manner of her people began to narrate the guayor, the woe she had been through, addressing the tenderest words of praise in my direction. The gendarmes insisted on my going to the station with them to give a full account of my rescue. And it was not an easy matter to dissuade them from this idea. A pretty scrape that would have been for me. My name and address on the police roster, and a write-up in the papers the next day. Adriano Meis, a hero. I, whose duty it was to keep out of sight in the dark and not attract anyone's attention. Not even a hero could I be, then, unless I wanted to pay for the pleasure with my scalp. On the other hand, since I was dead already, when you think of it, why worry so much about that precious scalp? Are you a widow of Mr. Meis, if I do not seem impertinent? This question was levelled at me point-blank one evening by Miss Sylvia Caporale, as I was sitting with her and Adriano on the balcony where they had invited me to join them. Caught off my guard I was embarrassed momentarily for an answer. I, a widower? No. Why do you ask? Why, I noticed that you were always rubbing the third finger of your left hand round and round this way, as though you were playing with a wedding ring that isn't there. He does, doesn't he, Adriano? Now, that will give you some idea of what women can do with their eyes, or at least some women, for Adriano confessed that she had never observed the habit in me. Well, it's probably because your attention was never called to it, the piano teacher answered. I thought it best to explain that though I was not myself aware of such an idiosyncrasy it might well be as Miss Caporale said. Years ago I did wear a ring on that finger for a long time. At last I had to have it cut by a goldsmith because it got too tight as my finger grew. Poor little ring, said the forty-year-older who was in a mood for sentimentalizing that evening. It didn't want to come off. It hugged you so tight. Must have had some beautiful memory too. Sylvia, little Adriano interrupted, reprovingly. What's the harm, the Caporale woman rejoined? I was going to say that it must have been a question of a first love of yours. Come, Mr. Maze, tell us something about yourself. Are you never really going to open up? Well, you see, said I, I was thinking of the inference you just drew from my habit of rubbing my ring finger, a quite arbitrary inference, if I may say so, Signorina. So far as I have observed widowers do not discontinue their rings as a rule. On the theory, I suppose, that it was the wife rather than the ring that caused all the trouble. Veteran soldiers are proud of the medals they earned in combat, aren't they? For the same reason widowers stick to their wedding rings. Oh, yes, my inquisitor insisted. You're cleverly changing the subject. How can you say that? My intention rather was to go into it more deeply. More deeply, nonsense. I'm not interested in the deeps. I just had the impression and stopped there at the surface. The impression that I was a widower? Yes. And what would you say, Adriana? Don't you think Mr. Maze looks like one? Adriana glanced at me furtively, but she had once lowered her eyes, too bashful long to sustain anybody's gaze. With her usual faint smile, so sweet and sorrowful it always seemed to me, she answered, How should I know what widowers look like? You're so funny, Sylvia. Some unpleasant thought, some unwelcome image must have flitted across her mind as she said that. For her face darkened and she turned away to look down into the river beneath us. And the other woman doubtless understood what it was, for she also turned and began looking at the view. I was puzzled for a moment, but at last, as my attention rested on Adriana's black-boarded wrapper, I thought I knew. Yes, a fourth person, an invisible one, had intruded on our party. Tarencio Papiano, the man who had gone to Naples, was a widower. I guessed from the exchange which I had just heard that he probably did not suggest the mourner, an air of which Miss Caporale found it easier to detect in me. I confess that this unhappy turn to the conversation did not at first displease me. Tacklessly Miss Caporale had blundered into Adriana's bitterness over her dead sister's troubles, and the little girl's suffering was the proper punishment for such an indiscretion. But then I considered, looking at the matter from the woman's point of view, might not this curiosity of hers, which to me seemed rank impertinence, be a very natural and justifiable thing. The mystery that hung about my person must surely impress people. And now, since I could not endure keeping to myself, since I could not resist the temptation to seek the companionship of others, I must be resigned to the necessity of answering the questions which possible friends had every right to ask me as a step to finding out with whom they had to deal. There would be, moreover, only one way to answer, by making up as I went along, by telling lies outright. There was no middle ground. So then the fault was not theirs but mine. Lying would, of course, make the fault worse. But if I could not accept the situation, I should go away, take up again my solitary and silent wanderings. I could not fail to notice that Adriana herself, though she never pressed me with a question even remotely indiscreet, was all years whenever the Caporale woman pushed her inquiries beyond, I must say, the reasonable limits of natural and excusable curiosity. One evening, for example, there on the balcony where we now quite regularly met after I came home from dinner, she started to ask me something, laughing meanwhile and wrestling playfully with Adriana. The little girl was shouting, No, Sylvia, don't you dare! Don't you dare! I shall be cross. Listen, Mr. Mays, said Sylvia. Adriana wants to know why you don't wear at least a moustache. Don't you believe her, Mr. Mays? Don't you believe her? She was the one who I didn't. And the little house mother was so much in earnest that she burst suddenly into tears. There, there, there, said Miss Caporale, trying to comfort her. Oh, don't cry. I was only fooling. Besides, what's the harm? The harm is, I didn't say any such thing. And it isn't fair. Look, Mr. Mays, we were talking of actors who were all, well, that way. And then she said, Yes, like Mr. Mays. Who knows why he doesn't grow at least a moustache? And I repeated after her, Yes, who knows? Well, answered Sylvia, when a person says who knows, it means that that person wants to know. But you said it first, not I, said Adriana boiling. May I interrupt, I ask, with the idea of making peace. No, you may not, snapped Adriana. Good night, Mr. Mays. And she was away into the house. But Sylvia Caporale brought her back by main force. Don't be silly, Adriana. I was only joking. What a little spitfire you are. Now, Mr. Mays is a dear, nice man, and he doesn't mind. Do you, Mr. Mays? You see, he's now going to tell us why he doesn't grow at least a moustache. And Adriana laughed this time, though her eyes were still wet with tears. Because, I whispered hoarsely, because I belong to a secret order of conspirators that prohibits hair on the face. We don't believe it, whispered Sylvia, in the same hoarse, tragic manner. But we do know that you are a man of mystery. Explain yourself, sir. What were you doing at the general delivery window in the post office this afternoon? I at the post office? Yes, sir, do you deny it? About four o'clock. I was at Sun Sylvester of myself, and I saw you with my own eyes. It must have been my double, Signorina. I was not there. Of course you weren't. Of course you weren't, said Sylvia incredulously. Secret correspondency. Because it's true, isn't it, Adriana, that this gentleman never gets a letter here. The charwoman told me so, notice. Adriana moved uneasily on her chair. She did not like this kind of jesting. Don't you mind her, said she, sweeping me with a rapid apologetic and almost caressing glance. Don't you mind her? No, I get no mail, either here or at the post office, I answered. That alas is the sorry truth. No one writes to me for the simple reason that there is no one to do so. Not even a friend? Not even one friend in the whole wide world? Not even one. Just I and my shadow on the face of the earth. We are good friends, I and my shadow. I take him with me everywhere I go. But I never stopped long enough in one place to make any other lasting acquaintances. Lucky man exclaimed Sylvia with a sigh. It must be wonderful to travel all one's life. Well, tell us about your travels, there now, since you refused to talk about everything else. Once the shoals of these first embarrassing questions passed, keeping off here with the oar of the big lie, avoiding shipwreck there with another, veering warily again with still a third, I brought the bark of my fiction through the waters of danger and finally spread my sails to the full breeze on the open sea of fancy. Strange, but after a year or more of enforced silence I now indulged in an orgy of talking. Every evening there on the balcony I would talk and talk and talk of my rambling about in the world of the things I had seen, of the impressions I had received, of the incidents that had happened to me. I was myself astonished at the wealth of observation I had stored up in my mind during my travels, deep buried there during my silence, but now coming to vigorous, eloquent life again on my lips. And this wonder that I felt must have lent extraordinary colour and enthusiasm to my narratives. From the pleasure the two ladies evidently took in the things I described, I came little by little to experience a sort of mournful regret that I had not myself been able to enjoy them more, and this undertone of nostalgic yearning added another charm to my story. After a few evenings, Miss Caporale's attitude toward me, as well as the expression on her face, changed radically. The heavy langer now veiling her great sorrowful bulging eyes made them look more than ever like doll's eyes opening and closing with lead weights inside her head. And this stride and sentimentality strengthened the contrast between them and her blank mask like face. There was no doubt about it. Sylvia Caporale was falling in love with me. The naive surprise this discovery gave me was proof certain to myself that I had not at all been talking for her all that while, but for the other, the little girl who sat there by the hour listening silently and attentively. Adriana, for that matter, seemed to have understood so too. For by a sort of tacit agreement we began smiling to one another at the comic and quite unforeseen effects my chats were having on the heartstrings of this susceptible old maid of the piano lessons. Yet this second discovery I must hasten to caution awakened in me only thoughts of the most tender purity as regards my little housemother. How could such innocence touched with its delicate suffusion of sadness inspire any others? What joy it gave me that first proof of confidence a proof as overt yet as diffident as her childish bashfulness would allow. Now it would be a fleeting glance the flash across her features of a softer beauty. Now it would be a smile of mortified pity for the absurd faturity of the older woman or indeed a reproof darted at me from her eyes or suggested by a toss of her head when I for our secret amusement would go a little too far in paying out string to the falcon of that poor woman's hopes a falcon which now soared high and free in the heavens of Beatitude or now flapped and fluttered in distress at some sudden pull toward the solid earth that I would give. You cannot be a man of much heart. Miss Caporale remarked on one occasion if it is true as you say not that I believe you that you have gone along immune through all your life immune seniorina immune from what you know very well from what I mean without falling in love or never seniorina never never never how about that ring that grew so tight you had to have it filed off never never never never oh it began to hurt you see I thought I told you but anyhow it was a present from my grandfather what a whopper true as preaching why I can even tell you when and where rather amusing to at that it was at Florence and grandpa and I were coming out of the Uffizi you could never guess why I got the ring it was because I was 12 years old at the time by the way I had mistaken a perugino for a raffaele just so senior I made the mistake and as a reward for making it I got the ring grandpa bought it at one of the booths on the pointe vecchio as I later learned grandpa for reasons best known to himself had made up his mind that that particular picture had been falsely attributed to perugino and really belonged to raffaele hence his delight at my blunder well now you understand there's some difference between the hand of a boy 12 years old and this paddle I have at present notice how big it is you can't just see a baby ring on such a poor canoe but you say I have no heart seniorina that's probably an exaggeration I have one but I have also a little common sense you see I look at myself in the mirror through these glasses which being dark tend to soften the shock and I will seniorina I will look here Adriano old fellow I say to myself you don't seriously think a woman is ever going to fall for that face why the idea exclaimed the old maid you pretend to be doing justice to yourself in that kind of talk anyway you are very unjust toward us women because take my word for it mr. Mase women are more generous than men they don't attach so much importance to good looks which after all are only skin deep yes but I'm afraid they'd have to be more courageous than men too before I would have any chance it would take a pretty desperate valor to face a prospect like me oh get out mr. Mase you enjoy depreciating yourself I'm sure you say you are uglier than you really are and I believe you try to make yourself uglier than you really are you hit it right that time and you know why I do to escape being pitied by people if I tried to dandy up a bit do you know what folks would say see that poor devil he thinks a moustache can help that face of his whereas this way no trouble a scarecrow but a frank honest to God one with no pretensions admit that I am right seniorina the piano teacher sighed expressively I'll admit you're all wrong I don't say a moustache perhaps but if you tried growing a van dyke let us say you would soon see what a distinguished and even handsome man you could be and this eye of mine if you please oh well if we are going to talk about frankly do you know I have been thinking of making the suggestion for some days past why don't you have an operation to set it straight perfectly simple matter hardly any inconvenience at all and in a few days you are rid of this last slight imperfection I've caught you said I women may be more generous than men seniorina but I must point out to you that a touch here and a touch there you have been making me a whole new face why had I so deliberately prolonged this conversation did I for Adriana's benefit really want the caporelli woman to say in so many words that she could love me indeed that she actually did love me in spite of my insignificant chin and my vagrant eye no that was not the reason I fomented all those questions and answers because I observed the pleasure that Adriana perhaps unconsciously kept experiencing every time the music teacher of futed me triumphantly so I understood that despite my odd appearance the girl might be able to love me I did not say as much even to myself but from that evening the bed I slept on in that house seemed softer to me the object in my room more home-like and familiar lighter the air I breathed bluer the sky more glorious the sun though I still pretended to myself that the change all came about because the late Mattia Pascal had died his miserable death back there in the mill flume of the coups and because I had Riano Mace after a year of aimless wandering in the boundless uncharted freedom I had found was at last getting to my course attaining the ideal I had set before me to become another man to live another life a life which I could now feel gushing vibrant palpitant within me and the poison of depression with which bitter experience had filled me was expelled from my soul and body I became gay again as I had been in the days of my boyhood even on Selmo paliari ceased to be the bore I had found him at first the gloom of his philosophy evaporating under the sunlight of my new joy poor old Anselmo of the two things which according to him were proper matters for concern to people on this earth he did not realize that he was thinking by this time of only one but come now be honest hadn't he thought of living too in his better days just a little more deserving of pity than he surely was the Maestro Caporale who failed to find even in the wine the gaiety of that unforgettable drunkard of the borgo novel she yearned to live poor thing and she thought it was unkind of men to fix only on the beauty that was skin deep so she supposed her soul away down underneath was a beautiful thing probably and who knows perhaps she might be capable of many and even great sacrifices of giving up her wine for example once she found a truly generous man if to her as human I reflected what we not conclude that justice is a supreme cruelty I resolved at any rate to be cruel no longer toward miss Sylvia Caporale resolved I say for I was cruel nevertheless without meaning to be and the more cruel the less I meant to be my affability proved to be fresh fuel for the flames of her very unstable passion and we were soon at this pass that everything I said would bring a pallet to her cheeks and a blush to the cheeks of Adriana there was nothing deliberate in my choice of words or subjects but I was sure that nothing I was saying had the effect whether by its tone or by its manner of expression of rousing this girl to whom I was really speaking all the while to such an extent as to break the harmony which in our good way had been established between us souls have some mysterious device for finding each other out while our exterior selves are still entangled in the formalities of conventional discourse they have needs and aspirations of their own which in view of the impossibility of satisfying those needs and of realizing those aspirations our bodies refuse to recognize and that is why two people whose souls are talking to each other experience an intolerable embarrassment a violent repulsion against any kind of material contact when they are left alone somewhere though the atmosphere clears again the moment a third person intervenes then the uneasiness vanishes the two souls find instant relief resume their intercourse smiling at each other from a safe distance how often was this the case with me in Adriana her distress however coming from the shyness the unassuming modesty native to her while mine as I believed was due to the remorse I felt at the lie I was obliged to live imposing my devious and complicated fictioning upon the ingenuity and candid innocence of that sweet gentle defenseless creature for a month past she had been quite transfigured in my eyes and was she not a different girl in fact was there not an inner glow in the fugitive glance as she now gave me and her smiles did not their lighter more wholesome joy bear witness that she was finding her life as a drudge more bearable that she was wearing more naturally that demeanor as a responsible grown-up housekeeper which had at first so much amused me I yes perhaps she was instinctively yielding to the need I myself felt of dreaming of a new life without trying to think out what that life must be nor how it could be made possible vague yearning in her cases in mine had opened for her as for me a window on the future through which a flood of intoxicating joyous light was streaming neither of us daring to approach the window meantime whether to draw the shutters or to see just what the prospect beyond might be our pure and exhilarating happiness had its secondary effects on poor Sylvia also by the way seniorina I said to her one evening do you know I have almost made up my mind to follow your advice what advice she asked to have an operation on my eye she clapped her hands gaily all that's such good news go to dr. Ambrosini he's the best one in town he did a cataract for my poor mama once what did I tell you Adriana the mirror did settle the question I was sure it would Adriana smiled as I did it wasn't the mirror though seniorina I observed it's a matter of necessity my eye has been giving me some trouble recently it was never of much use to me but I shouldn't care to lose it and I was lying it was just as miss Caporale had said it was the looking glass did convince me the looking glass told me that if a relatively simple operation could obliterate the one particularly odious feature bequeathed to Adriana Mace by the late Mattia Pascal the former might then dispense with the blue glasses also take on a bit of moustache again and in general bring his unfortunate physiognomy into reasonably close alignment with the inner transformation of his outlook on life this blissful state of mind was to be rudely disturbed by a scene which I witnessed a few nights later concealed behind the shutters of one of my windows I had been on the balcony with the two ladies until nearly 10 o'clock then retired to my room and was reading with more or less interest a favorite book of old Anselmo reincarnation suddenly I thought I heard voices outside on the balcony and I listened to discover whether Adriana's was among them no there were two people talking in suppressed tones but with some animation one was a man and his voice was not that of Paleari since there were to my knowledge no other males in the house except myself my curiosity was aroused I stepped to the window and peered out through one of the openings in the shutters dark as it was I thought I could recognize Sylvia Caporale in the woman but who was the man she was talking with could Terencio Papiano have returned unexpectedly from Naples something the piano teacher said in a louder tone than usual gave me to understand that they were discussing me I crowded closer to the shutters and listened anxiously the man seemed angry at whatever the woman had been saying about me and she was now evidently trying to attenuate the unfavorable impression her words had given rich I finally heard the man ask that I can't say the woman replied it looks as though he were he lives on whatever he has without working always about the house I know but anyhow you will see him tomorrow yourself the you was a tool in the intimate Italian form so she knew him as well as that good Papiano there was no longer any doubt that it was he be the lover of Miss Sylvia Caporale and in that case why had she been so much taken up with me during all this time my curiosity was now at fever heat but as luck would have it they talked on in a much lower and quite inaudible tone of voice not being able to hear anything I tried to do what I could with my eyes suddenly I saw the music teacher lay a hand on Papiano's shoulder an attention which he rudely rebuffed before long when the Caporale woman spoke again she raised her voice in evident exasperation but how could I help it who am I what do I represent in this house you tell Adriana to start herself out here the man ordered sharply hearing the girls name pronounced in that manner I clenched my fists my blood running cold in my veins but she's in bed said Sylvia the man answered angrily threateningly well get her out of bed and be quick about it to I don't know how I kept from throwing the shutters open the effort I made to control myself however cleared my head for an instant and the words which Sylvia Caporale had uttered in such irritation about herself came to my own lips who am I what do I represent in this house I drew back from the window but then a justification for my eaves dropping occurred to me those two people had been talking of me whatever they were saying was my legitimate concern therefore and now they were going to talk of the same matter with Adriana I had a right to know what that fellow's attitude was toward me the readiness with which I seized on this excuse for my indelicate conduct in spying on people without their knowing suddenly revealed to me that greater than my anxiety about myself was my interest at that moment in someone else I went back to my post behind the shutters the caporale woman had disappeared the man all alone was leaning with his elbows on the railing of the balcony looking down into the water his head sunk nervously between his two hands and I to an opening in the shutters my hands clutching at my two knees I stood there waiting in indescribable anxiety for Adriana to come out on the balcony the fact that she was slow in doing so did not exasperate me at all on the contrary it gave me the greatest satisfaction I guess I don't know why that Adriana was refusing to do the bidding of this bully in fact I could imagine Sylvia Caporale urging her begging her beseeching her to obey the man meantime stood there at the railing fuming with anger and impatience I was hoping that the woman would come back eventually to say that Adriana was unwilling to get up but no here she was herself the teacher appearing in the doorway behind her Papiano turned on the two women you go to bed he ordered speaking to Sylvia I have something to say to my sister-in-law the woman withdrew Papiano now stepped over to close the folding door that opened from the dining room out on the balcony no you don't said Adriana backing up against the door but I have something to say to you the man uttered vehemently under his breath trying to make as little noise as possible well say it said Adriana what do you want you might have waited till morning no I am going to say it now and he seized her violently by one arm dragging her forward on the balcony let me alone Adriana screamed struggling to release his hold I slammed the shutters back and appeared at the window oh mr. Mays called Adriana will you please step out here very gladly seniorina I answered my heart lept with a thrill of grateful joy in a bound I was out into the corridor leading to the dining room but there near the entrance to my room coiled as it were on a trunk that had been just brought in was a slender light-haired youth with a very long and seemingly transparent face barely opening a pair of language stupefied blue eyes I drew up with the start and looked at him I thought flashed through my mind the brother of Papiano Adriana once mentioned I hurried on and came out on the balcony may I introduce my brother-in-law mr. Mays terencio Papiano he has just come in from Naples delighted most happy the man exclaimed taking off his hat slouching through a reptilian bow and pressing my hand warmly I'm sorry I have been away from Rome all this time but I trust my little sister here has looked after you satisfactorily if you need anything for your room I hope you will feel quite free in letting me know is your work table just what you need I thought perhaps a broader one might serve your purposes better but if there's anything else we like to do our best by the guests who honor us thank you thank you I interrupted I'm quite comfortable thank you thank you rather or if I can be of any service in any other way I have some connections but Adriana dear I woke you up run along back to bed if you're sleepy oh said Adriana smiling her usual sad smile now that I'm up again and she stepped to the railing looking out over the water I felt instinctively that she did not want to leave me alone with the man what was she afraid of she stood there leaning meditatively against the parapet while the man with his hat still in his hand kept up a stream of chatter had been to Naples detained there much longer than he had been expecting and such a lot of work copying documents you see bundles of them in the private archives of her excellency the duchess donate resa ravaskiery fieski mama Duchess as everybody called her though mama big heart would have been a better name papers of extraordinary interest from certain points of view new light on the overthrow of the two Sicilies and especially on the role in that episode of Gaetano Philandieri Prince of Satriano whose life the marquis gilio doninatio gilio dauleta that is he Papiana was the private secretary of the marquis was intending to illuminate in a very careful and sincere biography sincere let us be frank sincere so far as the marquis's devotion and loyalty to the old Bourbons would permit the man seemed to have been wound up there was no stopping him he liked to hear himself talk a rating almost with the mannerisms of an experienced actor a dramatic pause here a subdued chuckle there an expressive gesture in some other place I could not master my astonishment I stood there rigid as a block of stone nodding every now and then at the lecturer but with my eyes on Adriana who was still leaning against the railing looking out over the river after all what can a fellow do Papiano intoned for a peroration the marquis is a Bourbon and a clerical while I I you understand I am almost afraid to say it out loud in my own house I well every morning before I go to work I step out here and wave my hand to caribaldi up there on the Johnny Coulomb ever notice his statue good view of it from just here well hooray for the 20th of September say I but I have to be secretary to the marquis just the same fine fellow and all that but Bourbon clerical clerical Bourbon as bad as they make him well bread and butter you've got to live in this world really when I hear him carrying on sometimes I as a good Italian I feel like spitting on the fellow if you'll pardon my strong language makes me sick this reactionary stuff but it's a matter of bread and butter so I stick it out yes bread and butter talks he shrugged his shoulders struck his hands to his hips with a broad sweep suggesting helplessness and laughed come come sister Jen said he running over to Adriana and putting his two hands gently on her shoulders time to be crawling in isn't it it's getting late and I imagine mr. Mays is tired too in bidding me good night at the door of my room Adriana pressed my hand something she had never done before and I remember that left alone I kept my hand closed as though to preserve the sensation of that pressure all night long I lay awake thinking pray to indescribable anxiety the ceremonious hypocrisy of the man is insinuating loquacious servility the hostility I had discovered in him by my eavesdropping he would certainly compel me to leave that house where profiting by the dotage of the old man he was certainly trying to make himself master just how would he go about getting me out some idea of his tactics I might have from his abrupt change of manner that evening when I appeared on the balcony but why should he object to my presence there why was I not a rumor like any other what could that caporal a woman have said to him about me could he be jealous of her or was he jealous of someone else his arrogant suspicious manner his rude dismissal of the music teacher to get Adriana alone with him the violence with which he addressed the girl her refusal to come out and coming out to let him close the door behind her the emotion she had previously shown every time her absent brother-in-law was mentioned yes everything everything filled me with the hateful suspicion that he had designs on her well why should that upset me so after all was it not easy for me to move away if the fellow gave me the slightest annoyance what was there to keep me nothing whatever and yet what a tender thrill I felt as I remembered how Adriana had called to me from the balcony as though asking me to protect her and in bidding me good night how she had pressed my hand I had not closed the blinds of my room nor drawn the curtains the moon rose and as it sank toward morning in the west it appeared at my window looked in upon me to laugh at me as it seemed for finding me still awake I understand I understand my boy but you don't do you oh no you don't understand you rascal end of section 11 section 12 of the late Mattia Pascal by Luigi Pirandello translated by Arthur Livingston this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please contact LibriVox.org Chapter 12 Papiano gets my eye the tragedy of Orestes in a puppet theater mr. Maze automatic dolls of new invention at 8 30 this evening via de prefecti number 54 worth going to see mr. Maze so the old gentleman Anselmo Paleare was enunciating to me from my doorway the tragedy of Orestes I answered yes da presso focle so this flyer reads Electra I imagine but listen I've just thought of something supposing that just at the climax when the marionette representing Orestes is about to avenge his father's death on Augustus and his mother someone should suddenly tear a hole in the paper ceiling over the stage what would happen do you think I give up said I shrugging my shoulders I just think Mr. Maze Orestes of course would be quite flabbergasted by that hole in the sky why let me finish Orestes would be in the throes of his vengefulness and intent on assuaging his thirst for blood but low a rent in the sky his eyes would turn up toward that wouldn't they and all sorts of evil influences would become apparent on the stage he would droop and collapse Orestes in other words would become Hamlet the whole difference between the ancient theater and the modern comes down to that I assure you mr. Maze to a rent in a paper sky and he went away pattering along the hall in his slippers in just such a way old Anselmo was wanted to launch avalanches of thoughts from the foggy mountain tops of his moodiness their relevance to anything their motivation the connection between them stayed up there in the clouds for the person down below who had to dodge them it was often difficult to understand just what they meant but this notion of Orestes thrown off his pins by a hole suddenly torn in the sky stayed with me for a long time lucky marionettes I sighed the make believe heaven over their heads is rarely torn asunder and if it is it can be glued together again they don't need to worry they know neither perplexity nor inhibition nor scruple nor sorrow nor anything they can just sit still enjoying their comedy loving respecting admiring each other never getting flustered never losing their heads because their characters and their actions are all proportioned to the blue roof that covers them and the prototype of these marionettes my dear miss Anselmo you have right here in your own house in the person of that precious son-in-law of yours mr. Terrence your papiano could any marionette be better satisfied than he is with the pasteboard sky snugly stretched above his head the comfortable and tranquil dwelling place of a deity who bestows with the lavish hand ready to close his eyes beforehand and to raise his hand in forgiveness afterwards sleepily repeating after every sharp deal I the lord thy god help those who help themselves your precious son-in-law mr. Terrence your papiano certainly helps himself my dear Anselmo life for him is just one sharp turn after another he has his finger in every pie enterprising jovial enthusiastic full of gumption and go 40 years old was Papiano tall of stature sinewy of limb inclined toward baldness with a suggestion of gray and the heavy moustache he wore under his nose a fine expressive nose with nostrils all a quiver gray eyes also sharp restless as restless as his hands he saw everything with those eyes he touched everything with those fingers he would be talking with me for instance but in some way I don't know how he would see that Adriana busy with her cleaning away off behind him was having difficulty in getting a piece of furniture into place again excuse me he would say like a flash and then run to his sister-in-law and take the business out of her hands look girl this is the way we do it see and he would dust it off himself shove it into place again himself and come hurrying back to me or he would notice that his brother who suffered from attacks of epilepsy was about to have a spell he would run to him tap him on the cheeks tweak the end of his nose blow on his face and call she peony she peony till he brought the boy around again there's no telling what fun I should have gotten out of such a man had I not had that blessed skeleton in my closet a fact this latter of which Papiano became aware or at least suspicious in no time at all mr. May's this mr. May's that a veritable bombardment of adulation it always underneath the compliment a line out to catch me and get me to say something definite about myself I came to feel that every remark every question of his however commonplace however obvious concealed a trap for me and I mean time would be anxious not to show the least reserve in order not to increase his mistrust though I must say my annoyance at the servile ceremonious harassing inquisition he held me subject to prevented me from concealing my real feelings very well my resentment came also from two secret causes within one was this I had never done anything wrong I had never harmed a living soul yet I felt compelled to be ever on my guard as though I were an outlaw with no title whatever to being left alone the other I refused to admit even to myself and my suppression of it made its action more subtly virulent inside me I kept cursing in my own mind you ass but pack up your things and clear out why put up with this infernal bore it was of no avail I did not go away I could not go away and I knew that I never would the interior struggle I fought to refuse recognition of my love for Adriana prevented me as a logical corollary to this insensitivity with myself from considering the consequences of my abnormal status in life in connection with that passion so I just kept on from day-to-day puzzled perplexed restless irritated fidgeting in constant uneasiness though preserving a smiling countenance toward other people on all that I had overheard that night while hiding behind my window shutters I had secured no further light it seemed that the bad impression Papiano had received of me from whatever the caporeale woman told him had vanished with our first introduction he tormented me with his devious questioning it's true but certainly with no intention disguised or otherwise to get me out of the house on the contrary he was doing everything he could to keep me as a rumor well what was he up to then since his return Adriana had become morose and gloomy again treating me with a cold distant aloofness as she had at first in the presence of others at least Sylvia caporeale always addressed Papiano with lei the formal word for you but he irrepressible rogue veed her and thawed her blatantly even calling her rare Sylvia once for a good pun I could not grasp the true significance of his manner toward the woman a mixture of railery and intimacy at the same time that drunken red-nosed slat and certainly commanded little respect from the endicorum of the life she led but on the other hand she should not have been treated that way by a man wholly unrelated to her one evening there was a full moon and the night was as bright as day I perceived her from my window sitting sad and solitary on the balcony she Adriana and I had met there rarely since Papiano came and never with the same pleasure as formerly for he inevitably joined us and did the talking for us all with the idea that I might perhaps learn something interesting from her by catching her in that mood of dejected relaxation I decided to have a talk with her as usual in going out of my room I found Papiano's brother coiled on the same trunk in the hallway did he spend his time there in that uncomfortable position of his own choice or had he been stationed there to watch me Signorino Caporale was weeping when I arrived on the balcony she refused to talk at first on the excuse of a severe headache but shortly she seemed to make up her mind all of a sudden and turning straight toward me and holding out a hand she asked are you a real friend of mine if you are kind enough to grant me such a privilege I answered with a bow oh no no fine language please mr. Maze I need a friend a real friend just at this moment you ought to understand for you are alone in the world as I am of course you are a man and it's different for a man oh if you only knew mr. Maze if you only knew where with she bit at the handkerchief she was holding in one hand to keep from weeping and that remedy not proving successful she began tearing it angrily into strips a woman an ugly woman and an old woman she cried that's what I am three misfortunes that can never be helped why do I go on living anyway is it as bad as all that I asked to say something don't be so downhearted seniorina why do you talk that way because she exclaimed but then she stopped unable or at least unwilling to finish her sentence please tell me I encouraged if a friend can be of any use to you she carried the tattered handkerchief to her eyes it would be much better if I could die she groaned with a note of such complete ejection that I was deeply moved never indeed will I forget the lines of anguish that formed around her thin ill shaped lips as she said the words nor the quivering of her chin under its scattering of ugly black hair but I can't even die she finally resumed oh no mr. Maze what could you do for me nothing neither could anybody else a few kind words perhaps a little pity but that's all I am alone in the world and I must stay here to be treated well you probably have noticed how and they have no right to you know they have no right to I'm not living on their charity and at this point seniorina caporeale told me the story of the six thousand lila I have already mentioned now Papiano got them away from her the personal troubles of this woman were interesting enough in their way but still this was not just what I had come to find out taking advantage I confess of the abnormal condition she was in perhaps from a sip of wine too much at dinner I ventured a leading question but why did you ever risk giving him the money seniorina why and she clenched her fists because I wanted to show him two mean things one meaner than the other I wanted him to understand that I knew what he really wanted from me and his wife was still living too I see and just imagine the woman continued gathering spirit in her narrative poor Rita that was his wife's name yes Rita Adriana's sister in bed for two whole years hanging between life and death you can't imagine whether I but anyway they all know how I acted and Adriana knows too that's why she's so fond of me really fond of me poor thing and what is the fix I have been left in why I've even had to give up my piano which for me was well everything you understand well not just because I'm a teacher my piano was my whole life I could write music as a girl there at the conservatory and I did a number of songs afterwards when I had finished my course well as long as I had my piano I could still compose or not for publication of course just for myself I would sit down and improvise and sometimes I would get so worked up I don't know what it was it was as though something were coming right out of my soul I couldn't stand it I would almost faint away I became part of my instrument and it of me so that I could hardly feel my fingers touching the keys it was the weeping and the sorrowing of my own heart judge for yourself one evening a crowd gathered under my windows I was alone at home with mother there on the second floor where we lived and the people clapped and cheered and cheered and clapped I was afraid but my dear seniorina I said comfortably if a piano is all you need couldn't be higher one I should enjoy hearing you play ever so much and if you will allow me no she interrupted what could I do with it now it's all over with me I can bang off a popular song in the cabaret is perhaps but that's all did Papiano never promised to make good the money you gave him I ventured again edging back toward the subject that most concerned me that man the woman exclaimed scornfully who would ever expect him to I never asked it back from him to begin with but now he is talking of doing so oh yes now he'll give it all back to me provided provided I help him that's it he wants me to help him no one will do but me do you know he actually had the face to make the proposition to me in so many words what proposition how could you help him with another dirty trick he has in mind don't you understand I'm sure you can guess I'd miss Palliari I gasped exactly I am to bring her around to it you see I around to marrying him what else and you know why because the poor girl has or at least ought to have a dowry of some 15,000 lira the money from her sister's dowry that is which he is legally bound to return to Anselmo Palliari at once because Rita died without children you see I don't know what he's done with it but he has asked for a year's time to pay it back so now he is hoping that here comes Adriana taciturn distracted more distant and shy than ever Adriana came out to join us bowing to me with a slight nod of recognition and putting her arm around Miss Caporale's waist after what I had just learned I felt a flash of anger at seeing her so submissive and compliant to the odious intrigues of the rascal who was plotting her capture but I had little time to indulge such a wholesome emotion before long Papiano's brother moving more like a ghost than like a real man stole out upon the balcony here he is said Sylvia nudging Adriana the little girl half closed her eyes and drew up her lips in a bitter smile then with an angry toss of her head she withdrew into the house good night mr. Maze said she I must be going he's watching her the caporale woman whispered with a significant nod in the boys direction but what is Miss Palliari afraid of I could not help asking in my increasing irritation and disgust doesn't she understand that such conduct on her part gives him a stronger hold over her may I be frank Signorina I have the greatest envy and admiration for people who are interested in life and play the game with gusto if I had to choose between the bully and the person who lets himself be bullied without protest why I would side with the bully the caporale woman noted the feeling with which I spoke and she answered with just a trace of irony in her voice well why don't you start a rebellion I yes you you she challenged openly now looking me sarcastically in the eye what have I to do with all this I replied I could protest in only one way by giving up my room and clearing out well the woman rejoined with a shrewd thrust that may be the one thing Adriana doesn't want she doesn't want me to go away the piano teacher twelt her bedraggled handkerchief round and round in the air finally winding it up into a ball around her thumb you can never tell I shrugged my shoulders well I I'm going to dinner I exclaimed and I'd left her standing there without another word to strike while the iron was hot I stopped that very evening on going along the hallway in front of the trunk where she peone papiano was coiled in his usual style excuse me I began can't you find some other place to sit we're in my way just here the boy looked blankly up at me out of his sleepy eyes but did not seem at all embarrassed did you hear what I said I continued shaking him by the arm he sat there as stolid as a stone however a door opened at the end of the corridor it was Adriana I wonder Signorina I now said can't you get this poor boy to understand that he might choose some other place to sit he's not well said Adriana trying to soften the situation all the more reason for moving I counted year is not so very good here and besides sitting on a trunk shall I speak to your brother about it no no Adriana protested hurriedly I'll see him about it myself you understand I am sure I added I'm not so much of a king yet that I need a watchman to guard my door from that moment I lost all control over myself I began to compromise Adriana's timidity overtly forcing her hand as it were but at any rate closing my eyes to consequences recklessly surrendering to the feelings in possession of me the poor dear little house mother at first she did not know what to make of it vacillating apparently between hope and fear she could not trust me holy as yet divining that anger more than anything else was at the bottom of my changed behavior but at the same time she realized that her fear hitherto had been based on the secret and almost unconscious hope of not losing me and now my sudden self assertion strengthening the hope prevented her from surrendering quite to the fear this delicate and affecting perplexity of hers this modest reserve on her part kept me from clarifying issues entirely in my own mind and brought me to persist more tenaciously still in the combat Papiano and I had now tacitly agreed to wage with one another I had expected the fellow to confront me the very next morning after my brush with his brother and have done with his usual compliments and ceremony but no he gave ground it once removed his brother from the outpost in front of my door and even went so far as to twit Adriana about her embarrassment in my presence you mustn't judge my little sister too harshly mr. mace she's as shy as a little nun when strangers are around this unexpected retreat and the brazen unconcern of the man quite disconcerted me what was he driving at anyway one evening I saw him come home in company with an individual who entered the house striking his cane noisily on the floor as though he were walking in felt shoes and were anxious to be sure his feet were working well where is this dear relative of mine dovacales to me car parent he began vociferating in a high-pitched pied Montezer dialect not bothering to remove from his head the large broad brimmed hat that was pressed down over his watery half-opened eyes nor from his mouth a short stemmed pipe over which he seemed bent on broiling a nose redder than that of Miss Sylvia caporelle dovacales to me car parent he hears said Papiano waving a hand in my direction then turning toward me he said a surprise for you senior Adriano let me introduce mr. Francesco maize a relative of yours from Turin a relative of mine I gasped in bewilderment the man evidently half-drunk closed his eyes entirely now raised a poor much as a bear might do and stood there waiting for me to grasp it I did not disturb the pose for some seconds meantime looking at him fixedly what's the joke you are trying on me now I then inquired a joke why a joke answered Papiano mr. Francesco maize assured me that you and he cousins the visitor volunteered to help out cuisine to the maize he's so my parent all the maize is belong to the same family I am sorry I have never had the pleasure of setting eyes on you before I protested that's one on you the man exclaimed oh my costa Calabella that's the very reason why I came to have a look at you maize from Turin I pretended to ponder but I'm not from Turin how is that Papiano interrupted didn't I understand you to say that you lived in Turin till you were 10 years old why of course the stranger interposed apparently offended that so much fuss was being made over a point so simple cuisine cuisine what's his name here Papiano Terenzio Papiano yes Terenziano Terenziano told me your father went to America but what's that mean it means you are the son of old uncle Tony Barbara Anthony yes sir he went to America and so we are cousins no isoma cuisine but my father's name was paolo Anthony no paolo paolo paolo do you think you know more about that than I do man shrugged his shoulders and stretched the corners of his mouth into a broad smile rubbing meantime a four days growth of gray beard on his chin I thought it was Antonio but it may be as you say I shouldn't dare contradict you for I never knew him myself the poor fellow having the advantage over me that I well knew might have stood his ground but he seemed to be content so long as we were cousins his father he further exclaimed was a Francesco like himself and a brother of the Antonio or rather of the paolo who had gone off to America from Turin at a time when he Francesco May second was still a boy uncle Mazna of seven having lived all his life away from home a little job in the government service he was not very well acquainted with the old folks whether on his father's or his mother's side but we were cousins of that there could be no doubt but you must have known grandpa surely I decided mischievously to ask yes he had known grandpa you could not remember whether at pavi or at piacenza or really what did he look like look like why I can't quite say that was some 30 years ago I saw him pass at the ranta knee the fellow did not seem to be acting in bad faith I took him rather for a poor devil who was drowning his soul in wine in order to escape some of the worries of poverty and loneliness he stood there with head lowered and eyes closed approving all the things I said to corner him I'm sure that I could have told him we had been to school together and that I had given him a thrashing once and he would still have remembered so long as I admitted that we were cousins on that point he refused to compromise so cousins were remained but suddenly on looking at papiano and catching an expression of gloating on his face I lost my desire for further jesting I bad the drunken man good afternoon with a caro parente fixing my eyes upon papianos with the idea of convincing him that I was not to be trifled with by such as he will you be so good I asked us to tell me where you unearthed that crazy idiot oh I'm so sorry the rascal answered I must admit he was a man of extraordinary resourcefulness I can see that I was not altogether happy in my on the contrary you're always most happy in your guess as I exclaimed no I mean I was mistaken in thinking you might be glad to see him but believe me it was such a strange coincidence you see here is how it happened I had to go to the tax office this morning on a matter of business for the Marquis my employer while I was there I suddenly heard someone calling Mr. Mace Mr. Mace I turned around of course thinking it was you and supposing you were there on some matter where my influence might be of use to you it is always at your disposal you understand but no it was this crazy idiot as you so well call him and I out of idle curiosity went up to him and asked him if his name were really Mace and where he came from since I had the honor of knowing a Mr. Mace who was a guest in my home well he said that you were a cousin of his and insisted on coming home with me to make your acquaintance there you have the whole story all this happened at the revenue office yes the man works there assistant collector or something could I believe this cock and bull yarn I made up my mind to investigate it and it proved to be true but it was equally true that Papiano with all his suspicions of me was meeting my frontal attack upon his secret maneuvers in his home by retreating evading slipping around me to delve into my past and finally assail me from the rear knowing the man as I did I had every reason to fear that with his keen scent he could not long fail to find a clue and that once on the right track he would never depart from it till he stood on the bank of the Miranio Milflume with the bloated body of the late Mattia Pascal in front of him imagine then my terror when a few days later as I was reading in my room they came to my ears from the corridor of voice a voice from the other world but one still vivid in my memory perhaps I thank God seniority that I read myself off her the Spaniard my Spaniard the pudgy little man in the big beard who had hooked on to me at Monte Carlo and followed me to Nice where we had quarrelled because I would not play partners with him as he wanted God of heaven the trail at last that devil of a Papiano had finally found it I jumped to my feet grasping the edge of the table in order not to collapse in the sudden anguished horror that seized upon my heart stupefied my knees at tremble I stood there and listened determined to run away the moment Papiano and the Spaniard it was he there was no mistaking his voice and his broken Spanish Italian got through the hallway but run away in the first place supposing Papiano and coming in had asked the servant whether I were at home how would he interpret my flight in that case and in the second place let's think this all the way out now they knew my name was Adriano Mace what else could the Spaniard know about me he had seen me at Monte Carlo well had I ever told him there that my name was Matia Pascal perhaps I could not remember I happened to be standing in front of my mirror as though someone had set me just there on purpose I looked at myself in the glass I guess that crooked eye of mine that blessed cock eye by that he would recognize me but how on earth had Papiano ever gotten back to my adventure in Monte Carlo that was what surprised me more than anything else what could I do about it meantime nothing obviously I should have to wait for what was going to happen to happen and nothing happened though I did not recover from my fright even after Papiano on the evening of that very day in explaining to me the mystery of that incomprehensible and terrifying visit showed me clearly that he was not really on my track at all but that fortune simply after the many extraordinary turns with which she had favored me had now done me another in suddenly setting across my path again that Spaniard who very probably had forgotten that I ever existed from what Papiano told me of the fellow I saw that I could hardly have missed him at Monte Carlo since he was a gambler by profession but how strange that I should be meeting him now in Rome or rather that coming to Rome I should have hit upon one of the very houses to which he had entrance certainly if I had had nothing to be afraid of the curious coincidence would not have impressed me so strongly how often in fact do we come unexpectedly upon people whom we have met elsewhere by nearest chance in any event he had or thought he had very good reasons for coming to Rome and to Papiano's house the fault was mine or at least of that chain of circumstances which had caused me to shave off my beard and change my name some 20 years earlier the Marquis Gileo D'Auletta the man whom Papiano was serving as a private secretary had given his only daughter in marriage to Don Antonio Pantogada an attaché of the Spanish Embassy to the Holy See not long after the wedding Pantogada along with some members of the Roman aristocracy had been arrested in a raid made by the police one night upon a gambling house in the city this had occasioned his recall to Madrid where he had committed the other in discretions perhaps worse than this one which had finally brought about his dismissal from the diplomatic service of his country from that moment the Marquis D'Auletta had not had a moment's rest from constant demands for money made upon him by his profligate son-in-law Pantogada's wife had died four years before leaving a daughter about 15 years old whom the Marquis had taken to live with him knowing only too well the kind of environment her father would have provided for her Pantogada had at first refused to give the girl up but finally he had yielded under pressure of money to pay his debts now he was continually raising the question again and in fact had come to Rome for the purpose of taking his daughter in other words around some of money away with him he could be sure that the Marquis would make any sacrifice rather than see his dear grandchild Pepita fall into her father's hands Papiano rose to heights of holy wrath in his denunciation of such a cowardly piece of blackmail and I'm sure he was quite sincere in it all he had one of those ingenious contrivances for a conscience which permitted him to howl in all honesty at the evil others do while still without the least discomfort allowing him to work an almost similar game upon his own father-in-law Paleari however on this occasion the Marquis Giglio was holding out it was evident that Pantogada would be detained in Rome for some time and hence come frequently to visit Terencio Papiano with whom he got on famously how could I help meeting him sooner or later what could I do again I consulted my looking glass and I saw in it the face of the late Mattia Pascal peering at me with his crooked eye from the surface of the Miranio mill flume and dressing me as follows what a mess you are in Adriano Mace be honest now tell the truth you are afraid of Terencio Papiano and you would like to put the blame on me on me again just because when I was in Nice one day I had a little squabble with the Spaniard when I was right wasn't I as you very well know and do you think you can get out of it by obliterating the last trace of me from your face do so my dear Mr. Mace follow the advice of Miss Sylvia Caporale call in Dr. Ambrosini and have your eye put in place again then well then you'll see end of section 12 section 13 of the late Mattia Pascal by Luigi Pirandello translated by Arthur Livingston this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org chapter 13 the Red Lantern 40 days in the dark successful the operation oh I should say so a great success though the eye perhaps could be a wee wee bit bigger than the other mean time 40 days in the dark in my room I had occasion to find out for myself now that when a man is in pain he acquires a very individual notion of good and evil of the good that is which people ought to do to him and to which he thinks he has a right as though suffering entitled him to compensation and of the evil which he can do to others as though a privilege for doing so derived from that same suffering with the result that he accuses them for the good they failed to do him as is their duty and excuses himself for the wrong he does to them as is his right after a week or so of that black confinement my desire the need I felt for being somehow comforted increased to exasperation I did realize to be sure that I was in a strange house and that therefore I should be grateful for the solicitors care my hosts took of me but they did not seem to me sufficient these attentions rather they grated on my nerves as though they were paid me out of spite of course they did because I understood from whom they came through them Adriana meant me to know that she was with me there in her thoughts all day long a jolly consolation that I must say what could were her belly thoughts if mine all the meanwhile wherever out in anguished search of her here and there through the house she alone could comfort me and it was her duty to she must have understood better than anybody else how darling it all was how lonesome I must be feeling how I longed to see her or at least be conscious of her presence near me to my nervous irritation was added a sullen rage on my learning that Pantogada had left Rome almost immediately would I ever have consented to such torture forty live long days in worse than jail if I had known that idiot were going away so soon blesses so to cheer me up old Anselmo Pallari tried to show me by a long disquisition that the dark was quite imaginary on my part imaginary I stormed furiously imaginary glad you think so I wait just a moment and I'll make clear just what I mean perhaps to prepare me for a spiritualistic seance which to take my mind off my troubles he seemed inclined to hold in my room he expounded a very unusual system of metaphysics which he had thought out all by himself a sort of lanternosophy one might have called it every now and then as he talked the old man would stop to ask me are you asleep Mr. Mace more than once I was tempted to answer yes thank heaven but since I could not fail to recognize that his intentions were of the best the idea of helping me pass my time more pleasantly I would answer no my dear Pallari I am listening most instructive please continue and he continued we said he for our misfortune are not like trees let us say which live without consciousness and to which the earth the sunshine the air the rain the wind the snow nothing which the tree itself is not but just something harmful or beneficial merely if you understand me we humans on coming into the world find we have one sorry privilege the privilege of feeling ourselves live with all the fine illusions that follow as a consequence the illusion in particular that this inner experience we have of a life forever varied and changing changing according to time circumstance or fortuity is a reality outside ourselves whereas this sense we have of life is a lantern as it were which each of us carries within himself now this lantern with its faint light reveals to us that we are lost astray on the face of the earth showing us the good and the evil on every hand why not our lanterns cast about us a greater or lesser area of light beyond which all is blank darkness now this fearful gloom would not exist where our lanterns not there to make us conscious of it though we must believe it is a real darkness so long as our lights are a glow within us well now imagine that our lamps are blown out this fictitious darkness will engulf us entirely will it not after our cloudy day of illusion perpetual night but is it really perpetual night or is it simply that we have fallen into the arms of essence which has broken down the insubstantial forms of our reason are you asleep mr. mace please go on my dear paliari I was never more awake I can almost see those lanterns you are talking about very well then but you have one eye out of commission remember we had better not get too deeply involved in philosophy supposing we amuse ourselves just following these wandering fireflies our various lanterns that is as they stray this way and that in the darkness of human destiny in the first place there are many different colors according to the kind of glass which illusion a great dealer in colored spectacles supplies us to view things through it's an idea of mine however that in certain eras of history mr. mace as in certain periods of our individual lives certain colors tend to predominate at a given epoch in history certain common prejudices certain common ways of thinking seem to prevail among men which color the globes of those I will say search lights beacons rather than lanterns which the great abstractions constitute truth virtue beauty honor and so on don't you think for instance that the beacon of pagan virtue was colored red whereas that of christian virtue must have been violent something gloomy depressing I mean to suggest the flame of the common idea is fed nourished kept alive by the oil of collective agreement on certain fundamental things but let this unanimity this consensus be broken down well the reflector the globe the abstract term remains I grant you but the flame inside the flame of the idea begins to sputter and spit and this happens in all the so-called periods of transition not infrequently in history there come sudden violent gusts certain worldwide brainstorms that extinguish all the great beacons of truth at the same moment what a time what a time in the darkness everywhere prevailing now our individual lanterns go scampering around this way and that in the greatest confusion this one forward this one backward this one round and round in a circle they collide they dodge each other they gather together in groups of ten twenty or a hundred but there is no guide to the certain road to verity they cannot agree they quarrel and argue and dispute and finally scatter again in all directions panic chaos anarchy bewilderment now it seems to me mr mace that we ourselves are now living in one of those periods of transition doubt confusion perplexity on every hand all the great beacons darkened all the landmarks gone whom shall we follow which way shall we go backwards perhaps shall we gather about the little lamps we find hanging on the gravestones of our illustrious dead do you remember what nicole or tomasco said in one of his poems a good poet was tomasco in spite of his dictionary that the flame in his lantern was not big enough perhaps to set the world on fire but that it might still serve for greater men than he to light their wicks from which is all very well provided you've got plenty of oil in your own lantern but many people haven't mr mace many people haven't so what do they do well certain of them go to the churches don't they to get enough oil to last their time out poor old men and poor old women for the most part whom life has played false and who groped their way forward in the gloom of existence their faith lighting their humble pathway like a votive candle how carefully they shield their feeble lantern from the blasts of final disillusionment hoping and praying their wicks will not die out till they reach their journey's end closing their ears to the blasphemous clamour of the world about them they keep their eyes fixed on the light in their hands reassuring themselves that it will be bright enough for god to notice them the faint but unfaltering glow of some of these humbled lanterns arouses a certain anguished envy in many of us mr mace though others who think they are chosen favourites of the zeus thunderer of science and assure that the almighty has equipped their automobiles with the most modern electric headlights have a disdainful pity for them for my part I say nothing positive mr mace I just ask a little question supposing all this darkness this great engulfing mystery in which the philosophers of the ages have speculated in vain and which science though it refuses to investigate it does not preclude were after all only a delusion a fiction of our minds a fancy we are somehow unable to brighten with gay colours supposing we could convince ourselves that all this mystery should prove not to exist at all outside of us but only in us and as a necessary compensation for our having that lantern I have been talking about that sense of life I mean which it is our unhappy privilege to possess supposing in a word that there were no such thing as this death which fills us with such terror that death should prove to be not the extinction of life but a gust of wind merely which blows out the light in our lantern extinguishes this dolerous painful terrifying sense of life we have terrifying because it is limited narrowed fenced in by the circle of fictitious darkness that begins just where the light from our lantern stops we think of ourselves as fireflies a stray in this darkness desperately casting about as tiny circles of radiance which are powerless to dispel the gloom and which are as it were our prisons cutting us off from the universal the eternal life to which we shall someday be allowed to return whereas in point of fact we are part of that greater life already and always shall be but henceforth without let us hope that feeling of exile and exclusion which torments us so no, Mr. Mayes the fence about us is wholly illusory something proportionate to the strength of the light of the individuality within us I don't know whether you will like the notion but the fact is that we have always lived and always shall live at one with the universe right now in our present bodily forms we participate in all the manifestations of universal life we are not aware of this it does not force itself upon our attention because unfortunately this puny weepy little lantern of ours reveals to us only the amounts that it can actually illuminate but worse than that it does not show things as they really are on the contrary it colours them in its own blessed way so that now our hair stands on end at certain prospect switch where our bodily forms somewhat different would only amuse us amuse us I mean because they would all seem so simple then that we should laugh at the strange terrors they once had for us since Mr. Anselmo Pagliari had such scant regard for the little coloured lanterns we each have in us I could not help wondering just why he was so anxious to light another with a red globe right there in my sick room weren't the two we had between us making trouble enough already? I decided to put the question to him Similia Similebus he answered one lantern corrects the other besides the red lantern I am going to light goes out at a certain point you know but do you really think I ventured further that this device of yours is the best means for discovering something? what scientists call light rejoined Anselmo not in the least disturbed may give us a very inadequate and deceptive notion of the thing they call life but for what is beyond the latter it not only does not help but believe me actually hinders there are a few charlatans of science with intellects as insignificant as their impulses are perverse who claim for their own conveniences that such experiments as those I perform with my red lantern are an insult to science and to nature herself heaven help us Mr. Mayes such nonsense no we are trying simply to discover other laws other forces evidences of another life in this same nature the very same nature mark me seeking by methods supplementing those normally used to go beyond the very narrow comprehension of things that our frail senses ordinarily furnish I ask you don't these same scientists demand the right environment the proper conditions for their experiments? can a photographer do without his dark chamber? well then besides there are all sorts of ways to test results and check up on trickery but Anselmo as I had occasion to observe some evenings later did not see fit to use any of these probably because his experiments were just a private family affair could he have the least reason to suspect that Miss Caporale and Papiano were having their fun with him? besides why be so particular anyhow? these seances were not for the purpose of convincing him he was sure already the best natured simpleton whoever lived he never once dreamt that his son-in-law and the piano teacher had any ulterior motives in attending his meetings if results were pitiably meager and petty he had his theosophy to write into these the most plausible and portentous significances why ask for anything better since he had no medium handy we had no right to expect that the being's dwelling on the higher the mental plane could be brought down to communicate with us we should be mighty glad to get the halting and imperfect manifestations of the dead who were still nearest our own lowly sphere on the astral plane that is who could refute him in such an argument? footnote one note of Don Eligio Pelle Grinotto faith, wrote Albertus Florentinos Magister is the substance of things hoped for the evidence of things unseen I knew that Adriana had always refused to take part in these experiments ever since I had been shut up there in my room she had come in but rarely and invariably when someone else was present to ask me how I was getting along such enquiries seemed to be the mere politeness which in fact they were she knew very well how I was getting along I even thought I could detect a note of mischievous irony in her voice since she of course could not have the least idea of my real reasons for suddenly deciding on this operation an operation which as she must have concluded was a matter of vanity on my part an attempt to look more handsome or at least less ugly by having my face remodeled along the lines suggested by Miss Silvia Caporale I'm getting along fine, Signorina I would answer I can't see a blessed thing but you'll see better much better later on Papiana would then observe in the dark there I would clencher fist and shake it in his direction how I should have liked to drive it home he was surely saying such things to make me lose the little good humour I still managed to preserve he could not possibly help noticing the dislike I had for his visits I showed it in every way yawning, gaping, grunting strictly avoiding all amenities but there he stuck just the same coming in to see me every evening without Adriana of course leave that to him and sitting there for hour after hour boring me past endurance with his endless chatter his voice coming out at me in the darkness made me twist and turn on my chair and sink my nails into my palms I could have strangled him at certain moments and could he not sense all this? could he not feel it? I thought he could for just at such times his voice would soften and take on its most caressing and soothing tones we always have to hold someone responsible for our trials and tribulations Papiano, so I decided was doing his best to get me out of the house and had the voice of common sense been able to make itself heard in my mind for that I should have been heartily grateful to him but how could I listen to common sense if common sense was talking to me through the mouth of such a fellow who in my judgement was wrong patently wrong despicably wrong he wanted to get rid of me I concluded in my rage in order to fleece Pagliari at leisure and encompass Adriana's ruin that was all his interminable prattle meant to me was it possible that any decent council could come from the lips of a man like Papiano? though perhaps all this was the way I chose to excuse myself for not mastering emotions which came in reality neither from my dark confinement nor even from the weariness I felt at Papiano's constant talking and talking he talked oh he talked of Pepita Pantogala evening after evening though there could have been nothing in my style of living to suggest such a thing he had taken it into his head that I was a very wealthy man and now to get my mind off Adriana he was perhaps flirting with the notion of interesting me and the granddaughter of the Marquis Giliore D'Auletta he described her to me as a very strict and very upish young lady brimful of intelligence and determination energetic in her ways outspoken and decisive in conversation a beautiful girl besides oh as for that a prize winner dark hair slender a jolly armful nevertheless bubbling with life two dazzling black eyes and lips well let's say nothing about her lips nor about the dowry either nothing to speak of the dowry beyond the whole estate of the Marquis who for his part would be very glad to have a husband in sight for the girl not only to be well rid of Pantogala but because he didn't get along so very well with Pepita herself a quiet easygoing sort of fellow was the Marquis interested in the things and the people of the old days while Pepita she was strong but in spirit didn't Papiano understand that the more he praised Pepita to me the greater my dislike for her became even before I had set eyes upon her I would meet her some evening soon he said because he would eventually persuade her to attend one of the seances and he would introduce me to the Marquis also for the Marquis was very keen to make my acquaintance after all that he Papiano had said of me unfortunately the Marquis never went out anywhere had renounced society in fact and of spiritualistic meetings in particular he could not approve because of his religious views how is that I asked he lets his granddaughter go to places where he would not go himself but he knows who it is she's going with Papiano exclaimed proudly that was enough for me why should Adriana out of religious scruples refuse to do something which Pepita could do with the full consent of a pious clerical grandparent I seized upon the argument and tried to persuade her to be present at the first sitting she had come to see me with her father the evening before the sales it's the same old story on Selma's side on hearing my proposal religion Mr. Meese behaves just like science when it comes to this question pricking up its donkey ears and rearing on its hind legs and yet as I have explained to my daughter a hundred times our experiments conflict with neither the one nor the other in fact as far as religion is concerned they demonstrate one of the truth's fundamental but supposing I should be afraid Adriana objected afraid of what snapped the father of being convinced or of the dark I added you're all going to be here senorina you be the only one to miss the party but I answered Adriana hard-pressed I well I don't take any stock in it there I don't believe in it I can't believe in it and well never mind she was unable to explain further but from the tone of her voice and her hesitation I was certain that something besides scruples of faith was keeping Adriana from the seance the fear she alleged as an excuse might have causes which Anselmo did not suspect or was it simply humiliation at the miserable spectacle her father offered in letting himself be so stupidly taken in by Papiano and Sylvia Caporale I did not have the heart to insist further but Adriana seemed to understand intuitively the disappointment which her refusal occasioned me she dropped an however which I caught on the wing splendid so you'll come then perhaps just for once tomorrow she yielded with a laugh it was late in the afternoon on the following day when Papiano came to prepare the terrain he brought in a small square table of rough unvarnished pine without draws a guitar a dog collar with bells and a few other articles removing the furniture from one corner of my room he stretched a string from molding to molding and from the string he hung a sheet of white cloth this work was done I need not say by the light of the red lantern and the accompaniment I also need not say of incessant gabbling this sheet is for well it's the accumulator let's call it that of this mysterious energy you just watch it Mr. mace and you'll see it's shaken to tremble swelling out now and then like a sale and lighting up with a strange unearthly glow oh yes we never get any real materializations but lights plenty of lights in the usual form this evening she's in touch with the spirit of an old schoolmate of hers at the conservatory he died of consumption bad business consumption at the age of 18 came from I forget just where Basel in Switzerland I believe it was but he lived here in Rome a long time with his family a man of promise a real genius nipped in the bud at least so Sylvia says you know she was in communication with max the name was max wait what was it max or lease yes that's it or lease or something of the sort even before she realized she had any gifts as a medium according to her story she would sit down at a piano and his spirit would take possession of her and she would play and play improvising understand till she fainted dead away by one evening a crowd of people gathered under the window and clapped and cheered and cheered and clapped and miss caporeale was afraid I added placidly Oh so you know then exclaimed Papiano stopping short yes she told me about it so I am to conclude that the applause was for Mr. Max's music played through the young lady that's the idea pity we haven't a piano in the house we have to do what we can with the guitar just the suggestion of a movement a note or two you see it's pretty hard on max I can tell you sometimes he gets all worked up and the way he pulls at the strings but you wait till this evening and you can hear for yourself there I guess we're about ready now but would you mind Mr. Papiano decided to ask before he got away I was wondering do you take all this seriously do you really believe in it why it's this way Mr. Mays said he as though he had been expecting the question I can't say I believe exactly fact is I just don't see through it all too dark I suppose Oh no not that the phenomena the manifestations themselves are real there's no denying that and here in our own house we can't suspect each other's good faith why not what do you mean why not why it's very easy to deceive yourself especially when you're anxious to believe something well I'm not so anxious you know on the contrary if anything my father-in-law who makes a study of such things yes he believes in it but with me you see well I just haven't the time let alone the interest what with those blessed Bourbons of the Marquis that keep me up to my neck in work I spend an evening this way once in a while but my honest opinion is that so long as the good Lord lets us live we can know nothing really about death so why bother let's get the best out of living is what I say Mr. Mace so there you have how I feel about it I'll just drop around to the Villa de Pontifichi and get Miss Pantogada and we're ready eh when he came back a half hour or more later he seemed quite annoyed along with Pepita and her governess a certain Spanish painter put in an appearance who was introduced to me without much cordiality as Manuel Bernaldes a friend of the Gilios he spoke Italian perfectly but there was no way to make him recognize the S on the end of my name when he came to that harmless consonant he seemed to hold as if it were going to burn his tongue Adriano May he repeated several times in a manner that struck me as too familiar Adriano Tui I felt like answering the ladies entered the room Pepita the governess Silvia Caporale and Adriana what you here too asked Papiano with ill-concealed irritation a second slip in his calculations I could see from the way Papiano had welcomed Bernaldes that the old Marquess could have known nothing of the painter's presence at this meeting and that some little intrigue with Pepita was at the bottom of it but the Great Terrencio was not to be discouraged by so little informing the mystic circle about the table he put Adriana next to himself and the Pantogada girl next to me did I like that? Not at all nor Pepita either in fact she voiced her dissatisfaction instantly in a language exactly like her father's Gracie Senor Terrencio I prefer a place between Senor Paleari and my governess in the dim light shed by the red lantern it was barely possible to distinguish outlines in the room so I could not be sure exactly how far the portrait which Papiano had sketched of Pepita Pantogada corresponded to the truth certainly her manner the tone of her voice her immediate rebellion against anything she didn't like harmonized perfectly with the impression I had formed of her from his description her disdainful refusal to take the place assigned her by the master of ceremonies was unquestionably disrespectful toward me but far from being displeased I was actually overjoyed quite right exclaimed Papiano very well let's have it this way Signora Candida next to Mr. Mayes then use Signora between Signora Candida and my father-in-law then the rest of us as we are will that do? No, it didn't do at all neither for me nor for Silvia Caporale nor for Adriana Noras was soon apparent for Pepita herself because she managed eventually to find the place she wanted in a new circle arranged by the inventive spirit of Marc Solis for the moment I found myself next to a mere ghost of a woman who had a kind of steeple on her head was it a hat? was it a wig? was it the way she fixed her hair? if not what was it? at any rate from underneath that towering pile one long sigh came following on another each ending in a stifled word of protest no one had thought of introducing me to Signora Candida now we had to hold hands in keeping the mystic chain intact her sense of propriety was shocked poor thing that was the reason for the size and protests how cold her fingers were my right hand was clutching the left of Silvia Caporale who was sitting at what might be called the head of the table with her back against the white sheet Papiano held her other hand next to him came Adriana and then the painter Anselmo sat at the foot of the table opposite Ms. Caporale Papiano was the first to speak we ought to begin by explaining to Mr. Mayes and Ms. Pantagada the what do you call it? the tipped illogical code prophet old paliari I need to know it too said Signora Candida not to be overlooked and squirming on her chair of course to Signora Candida also well old Anselmo began it's this way do taps mean yes taps asked Pepita nervously what taps why taps replied Anselmo either knocks on the table the chairs and so forth or touches on the person oh no shivered the Spanish girl jumping up from her place at the table I don't want any touches who's going to touch me why Max the Spirit Señorina said Papiano I told you on the way over they won't hurt you don't be afraid only tick to logical touches added the governess with a superior here as I was saying Anselmo resumed two taps yes three taps no four dark five speak six light that will be enough for the present so now let us concentrate ladies and gentlemen the room fell silent we concentrated end of section 13