Senso (And Other Stories)
Page 20
‘Did you hear that?’ he said to Gioacchino. ‘Your friend simply has to drink milk with pimpernel for nine days.’
But the fourth doctor, who had not said a word so far and seemed to be dozing, got up, and taking Gioacchino aside, very solemnly whispered in his ear, ‘These gentlemen may protest, but the fact is that the transmission of hydrophobia between human beings is now absolutely certain. So if the dog was rabid, your friend is past hope. The point is this: to find out whether the dog was rabid. And since rabid dogs never recover, to find out whether the dog is alive and well. If you, or your friend, or any other acquaintance of yours have need of a doctor, here is my visiting-card.’
Gioacchino left in a daze, staggering along on his thin legs, half senseless.
To find out whether the dog was alive! Gioacchino remembered the collar he had in his pocket, and had a brilliant idea. That very same evening he went rushing to the offices of the morning newspapers, and early the following morning to the offices of the evening papers. And he placed in them the notice with which the reader has already been acquainted.
So, to return to where we left him, on the way to the bank: he arrived late, raking over in his mind countless dreadful stories of rabid dogs, and of men dying in the most frightful convulsions when they least expected it, many weeks, months, years after being bitten. Rather than go through such agony, it would be better to throw oneself into a canal straightaway, with a stone around one’s neck. And he counted out the banknotes with the mechanical assurance of long habit, thinking of his poor uncle who would turn white at the sight of a dog, and sidle past, hugging the wall, and cower round corners; the same poor saintly uncle, who, having eaten bread and onions all his life, had left him one hundred thousand lire, and made him solemnly swear always to wear those knee-high boots, since dogs were in the habit of biting calves.
Zaccaria’s greasy head appeared at the counter, and he said mysteriously, ‘That man is here.’
‘Who?’
‘The one for the collar.’
Gioacchino leapt to his feet and his face lit up with joy. The owner of the collar was a tall, strong, handsome young fellow, a lieutenant in the marines, who gave the two letters asked for in the advertisement, and thanked the cashier, saying that he wanted to pay for the cost of publication, if nothing else. But Gioacchino did not reply. He was looking round, searching for the dog.
‘And where’s the dog?’
‘The dog ran away.’
‘When?’
‘The day before yesterday.’
Gioacchino felt his blood run cold, and he whispered as though talking to himself, in an agonized tone of voice, ‘The day it bit Irene!’
‘Exactly. He usually behaves like a lamb. But not if you pull his ears. Irene pulled them and he sank his teeth into her calf. She then gave him such a beating that he fled down the stairs, and I haven’t seen him since. But he’ll come back, I’m sure of it. He’ll turn up at my feet either in a cafe or somewhere that I’m a regular visitor. It’s not the first time he’s played this trick on me.’
‘Was the dog healthy?’
‘As fit as a fiddle. But with this heat, you never know.’
Gioacchino looked up at the lieutenant’s cheerful, round face and asked in a trembling voice, ‘You know Irene?’
The other fellow began to laugh, as though to say, ‘And who doesn’t?’
‘Excuse me, were you by any chance there the day before yesterday?’
‘I’ve been going three or four times a week for the past three months, and I’ve taken practically all the officers in the battalion there.’
‘Irene, in Calle delle Zotte, number 120? The girl who lives with her mother?’
‘A fine mother she is!’
‘But, you mean, Irene …’
‘Didn’t you know?’
Only then did the young man realize that the poor cashier was not feeling well, and since Gioacchino asked to be left alone, the lieutenant went away, without bothering to try to make sense of this confusion, arranging with the antiquarian from the Golden Shield for the crazy cashier to bring the collar to his house when it suited him. Zaccaria bowed so low he almost touched the ground with the two pointed tips of his grey beard.
‘And she cost me one hundred lire!’ Gioacchino kept repeating. And as he counted out money at his desk, his thoughts returned to the idea of tying a stone round his neck and throwing himself in a canal. Then he exclaimed, ‘I want my revenge. I want to kill the old woman first of all, and then the young one.’ And he trembled with fear.
At seven o’clock that evening, unaware of what he was doing, he came into the narrow street of Calle delle Zotte. The door was open. He went up and paused for a moment on the landing. He felt as though he was choking. He could not swallow his saliva any more, his hands seemed like claws, and his heart was thumping fit to burst. ‘This is it,’ he thought, ‘I’ve only a few hours left to live.’ And he went and stood on the threshold of Irene’s room.
Irene lay stetched out on the sofa as usual, playing with a dog.
Gioacchino turned to flee, but Irene called out to him, ‘Come in, come in. Look how sweet he is!’
Then talking to the dog, she said, ‘You won’t bite me any more, will you?’
It was the dog Gioacchino had been searching for: a healthy, lively, playful creature. Looking like a different person, Gioacchino took the collar out of his pocket and went up to the animal. Recognizing its own scent on the object, the dog jumped up at the young man, wriggling and writhing at his feet, licking his hands and dancing round him, barking with joy. Gioacchino fastened the collar round its neck. Then with one knee on the ground he stopped to stroke its soft, black, furry coat. And the dog rolled over to show its belly, waving its legs in the air.
Irene shrieked with laughter. Gioacchino suddenly stood up in a dignified manner, and trying to impart a fearsome expression to his pallid face and small, dull eyes, he said in his shrill voice, ‘Madame, I leave you to the lieutenant of the marines and his battalion. I leave you to the owner of this animal. I know everything, everything …’ And he made resolutely for the door.
Irene’s mirth was now unrestrained. She guffawed, and clapping her hands called out to the dog, ‘Catch him, Buddha. Catch the thief! Catch him!’ And she waved her arms at the dog.
Buddha went racing down the stairs after Gioacchino, growling, but Gioacchino was quicker and had closed the door. As he came out, the awful old woman threw down from a window the remains of a lemon on to the young man’s head.
Our banker returned to his former, regular and monotonous way of life. He made no further attempts to follow pretty brunettes in the street. He started saving again, and bought a new pair of boots that also protected his knees.
Copyright
Published in the UK by Dedalus Limited,
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Publishing History
First published in Italy 1867/95
First published by Dedalus in 1993
First ebook edition in 2012
Translation copyright © Christine Donougher 1993
Introduction copyright © Dedalus 1993
The right of Christine Donougher to be identified as the translator of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
Printed in Finland by W. S. Bookwell
Typeset by RefineCatch Ltd, Bungay, Suffolk
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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