Catastrophe

by Dino Buzzati

  Then there came a long, resounding thud, more awful and much nearer than anything that had preceded it, a sound of catastrophe. Fear held the family in its icy grip.

  “Oh, no, no!” the mother shrieked again suddenly. “I won’t, I won’t!” Very pale, her face fiercely set, she began to walk anxiously toward the billowing curtain. But she was shaking her head, as though to say that she didn’t allow it, that she was coming in person and that the water could not dare to come any closer.

  They saw her pushing aside the flapping edges of the curtain with an angry movement and disappear into the darkness, as though she were going to disperse an irritating band of beggars the servants had been unable to drive away. Did she hope that her aristocratic disdain could keep tragedy at bay, could intimidate the yawning abyss?

  She disappeared behind the curtain and, although the frightful rumbling sound seemed to swell, there was a feeling of silence.

  At last Massigher said, “There’s someone knocking at the door.”

  “Now, really,” said Martora, “who do you imagine that could be?”

  “No one,” replied Massigher. “Naturally, no one, at this stage. Yet there definitely is someone knocking. Probably a messenger, a spirit, a warning soul. This is a noble house. I think the powers that be sometimes take this into account.”

  Something Beginning with “L”

  CRISTOFORO SCHRODER, TIMBER MERCHANT, ARRIVED at the village of Sisto where he stayed two or three times a year; he got out at his usual hotel and went up to bed immediately, as he was not feeling very well. He sent for Dr. Lugosi, whom he had known for years. The doctor came and seemed to have no immediate explanation. He said there was nothing seriously wrong, provided Schroder with a bottle for a specimen and promised to call back again the same day.

  The next morning Schroder felt much better and decided to get up without awaiting the doctor. He was shaving in his shirtsleeves when there was a knock at the door. It was the doctor, and Schroder told him to come in.

  “I’m fine this morning,” said the merchant without turning around, continuing to shave in front of the mirror. “Thanks for having come, but in fact you can go right away again.”

  “You are in a hurry!” said the doctor and gave a slight cough to express a certain embarrassment. “I’m here with a friend this morning.”

  Schroder turned around and saw, standing on the threshold by the doctor, a man of about forty years of age, strongly built, with a reddish complexion; rather common-looking and smiling ingratiatingly. The merchant, who was a self-satisfied person and used to being in command, looked at the doctor inquiringly and somewhat annoyed.

  “A friend of mine,” repeated Lugosi, “Don Valerio Melito. We’ve got to go and visit a patient together and I told him to come along with me.”

  “At your service,” said Schroder coldly. “Do sit down.”

  “Anyhow,” continued the doctor to excuse himself further, “from what I’ve seen, you don’t really need me. The specimen was fine. Though I would like to do a little bleeding.”

  “Bleeding? And why, pray?”

  “It’ll do you good,” explained the doctor. “You’ll feel like another man after it. It’s always good for sanguine temperaments; and of course it’s all over in two minutes.”

  As he spoke he produced from his bag a glass jar containing three leeches. He put this on the table and continued: “Put one on each wrist. Keep them there for a moment and they’ll soon settle. I’m sorry to ask you to do it yourself, but do you know, in twenty years of medical practice I’ve never touched a leech.”

  “Give them to me,” said Schroder with his infuriating air of superiority. He took the jar, sat down on the bed and put the leeches to his wrists as though he had done such things all his life.

  Meanwhile the unknown visitor, without removing his huge cloak, had put his hat on the table, together with an oblong package which gave a metallic ring. With a vague feeling of unease Schroder noticed that the man was sitting right at the door as though he wished to keep his distance.

  “Don Valerio knows you already, although you may not know it,” said the doctor, he too, for some reason, sitting down by the door.

  “I don’t remember having had the honor,” replied Schroder, who was seated on the bed with his arms outstretched on the mattress, palms facing upward, while the leeches sucked at his wrists. “By the way, Lugosi,” he added, “is it raining this morning? I haven’t looked outside yet. Most annoying if it is, I’ve got to be out all morning.”

  “No, it’s not raining,” said the doctor. “Don Valerio does know you, you know, and he was most anxious to see you again.”

  “I’ll tell you about it,” Melito said in his unpleasantly twangy voice. “I have never had the honor of meeting you personally but I know something about you that you wouldn’t ever guess.”

  “I really can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” replied the merchant with absolute indifference.

  “Three months ago?” prompted Melito. “Try and remember: Three months ago were you not driving along the Old Border Road in your carriage?”

  “Well, possibly,” said Schroder. “It’s quite possible, but I really don’t remember.”

  “Right. And do you not remember skidding at a curve and finding yourself off the road?”

  “Yes, I do,” admitted the merchant, staring coldly at this new and unwelcome acquaintance.

  “And one wheel being right off the road and the horse not managing to get it back into the track?”

  “Quite so. But where were you?”

  “Ah, that I’ll tell you later,” replied Melito, suddenly laughing and winking at the doctor. “And then you got out, but you couldn’t manage to pull the carriage up either. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “It is. And it was raining cats and dogs.”

  “How it was raining,” continued Don Valerio, delighted. “And while you were straining away, did not a curious man appear on the scene, a tall man with an oddly dark face?”

  “I can’t say I really remember,” interrupted Schroder. “Excuse me, doctor, but how much longer with these leeches? They’re already as swollen as toads. I’ve had enough too. And you did say there wasn’t much to be done.”

  “Just one more minute,” said the doctor encouragingly. “Be a little patient, my dear Schroder. You’ll feel like another man afterward, I assure you. It’s not even ten o’clock yet, good Lord, you’ve all the time in the world!”

  “A tall man, wasn’t he, with a dark face and a strange cylindrical hat?” insisted Don Valerio. “And didn’t he have a sort of bell? Don’t you remember him ringing it all the time?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes, I do,” replied Schroder curtly. “And now would you mind telling me what all this is leading up to?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” said Melito. “I simply wanted to prove that I already knew you. And that I’ve got a good memory. Unfortunately, I was rather a long way away, the other side of a ditch, at least five hundred yards away. Under a tree, sheltering from the rain, but I saw it all.”

  “Who was that man then?” asked Schroder sharply, evidently wanting to make it clear that if Melito had something to say, it was better that he should say it immediately.

  “Ah, I don’t know who he was exactly, I only saw him from a distance! But who do you think he was?”

  “I don’t know, some poor beggar, I imagine,” said the merchant. “A deaf-mute, probably. When I asked him to come and help he began to moan in such a way that I couldn’t understand a word.”

  “And when you went up to him he backed away, but you took him by the arm and forced him to help you push the carriage. Didn’t you? Admit it.”

  “What if I did?” retorted Schroder, but suspiciously. “I didn’t hurt him. In fact, afterward I gave him two lira.”

  “Did you hear that?” said Melito in a lower voice to the doctor; then, louder, to the merchant: “Quite so, why not? But you will admit that I saw it all.”


  “There’s nothing to worry about, my dear Schroder,” said the doctor at this juncture, noticing the merchant’s black expression. “My excellent friend Don Valerio enjoys a joke. He simply wants to mystify you.”

  Melito turned to the doctor and nodded. As he did so, the edges of his cloak were drawn a little apart and Schroder, who was staring at him, paled suddenly.

  “Excuse me, Don Valerio,” he said, much less confidently than usual. “I see you have a pistol. You could have left it downstairs, I think; there is such a thing as etiquette even in these parts, unless I am much mistaken.”

  “Good Lord! You really must forgive me!” exclaimed Melito, clapping a hand to his forehead in apology. “I don’t know how to excuse myself! I’d completely forgotten about it. I never wear it normally, that’s why I’d forgotten. But today I have to go out into the countryside on horseback.”

  He seemed sincere enough, but left the pistol in his belt and went on shaking his head. “And tell me,” he went on, still addressing Schroder. “What impression did you get of that poor fellow?”

  “What impression should I get? He was obviously a very unfortunate man.”

  “And what about that bell thing he was ringing, did you not wonder what it was?”

  “Well, you know,” said Schroder, speaking cautiously in the anticipation of some trap, “he might have been a gypsy; I’ve often seen them ring bells to draw a crowd.”

  “A gypsy!” shrieked Melito, laughing as though the idea were hilarious. “Ah, so you thought he was a gypsy!”

  Schroder turned angrily to the doctor.

  “But what is all this?” he demanded harshly. “What do you mean by all this questioning? It doesn’t amuse me one bit, my dear Lugosi. If you want something from me, please speak out.”

  “Now, keep calm, I beg you,” exhorted the doctor, to hide his own embarrassment.

  “If you’re going to tell me that something happened to this tramp and that it’s my fault, please speak plainly,” went on the merchant, his tone becoming louder with every word he spoke, “please speak plainly, my dear friends. Do you mean that he has been killed?”

  “Nothing of the sort,” said Melito, smiling, completely master of the situation. “What an idea. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. The doctor simply said to me, ‘Don Valerio, why don’t you come up too, it’s Mr. Schroder.’ ‘Ah, I know him,’ I said. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘you come up too, he’ll be glad to see you.’ I’m sorry if I’ve been a nuisance . . .”

  The merchant realized that he was proving an easy prey.

  “It is you who must excuse me if I lost my temper. But it was a veritable cross-examination. If you have something to say, I wish you’d say it.”

  “Well,” said the doctor promptly though cautiously, “yes, in fact there is something.”

  “A statement?” inquired Schroder, increasingly sure of himself, trying to reattach the leeches, which had come off during his previous outburst, to his wrists. “Has someone lodged a complaint?”

  “Don Valerio,” said the doctor. “Perhaps you had better speak.”

  “Well,” said Melito. “Do you know who that man was who helped you put the carriage to rights?”

  “No, I don’t, I tell you, how many more times must I say it?”

  “I believe you,” Melito said. “I’m simply asking you whether you knew what sort of a man he was.”

  “I don’t know—a gypsy, I thought, a tramp of some kind . . .”

  “No. He wasn’t a tramp. Or rather, he may have been one once, but he’s not anymore. To put it plainly, that man was something beginning with ‘l.’”

  “Something beginning with ‘l’?” Schroder repeated automatically, casting around in his memory; and a shadow of apprehension darkened his face.

  “Yes. Beginning with ‘l,’” repeated Melito with a malicious smile.

  “Larceny—you mean he was a thief?” said the merchant, his face lighting up at the certainty of having guessed right.

  Don Valerio burst out laughing: “Ah, larceny, that’s wonderful! You were quite right, doctor: a most amusing gentleman, Mr. Schroder!” At that moment the sound of rain was heard against the window.

  “Well, I must leave you,” said the merchant firmly, removing the two leeches and putting them back in the jar. “It’s raining now and I must be off, or I’ll be late.”

  “Something beginning with ‘l,’” insisted Melito, standing up as well and fiddling with something hidden inside his voluminous cloak.

  “I don’t know, I tell you. I’m no good at riddles. If you have something to say, please say it now . . . something with ‘l’ . . . landsknecht perhaps? . . .” he concluded jokingly.

  Melito and the doctor were standing up now, side by side, with their backs to the door. Neither was smiling any longer.

  “Neither of your guesses is right,” said Melito slowly. “He was a leper.”

  As pale as death, the merchant looked from one to the other. “Well? And supposing he was a leper?”

  “Unfortunately there’s no ‘supposing’ about it,” said the doctor, moving nervously behind Don Valerio for cover. “He was a leper, and now you’re one too.”

  “That’s enough!” shrieked the merchant, quivering with rage. “Get out! That’s enough of this joking. Get out of here, the pair of you!”

  It was then that Melito opened his cloak to reveal the barrel of his gun.

  “I am the sheriff, my dear sir. And come quietly, I beg you—it’s in your own interest.”

  “I’ll show you who you’re dealing with!” shrieked Schroder. “What’s next on your list?”

  Melito kept his eyes fixed on Schroder, ready to ward off any possible attack. “Your bell is in that package,” he replied. “You will leave here immediately and continue ringing it until you’re out of the town, and then until you’re out of the kingdom.”

  “I’ll give you ‘ring the bell’!” retorted Schroder; he was still trying to shout, but his voice had died in his throat, the horror of the revelation had petrified him. Now he understood the whole thing: the doctor, visiting him the day before, had suspected something of the sort and had gone to the sheriff. By chance, the sheriff had seen him seize a leper by the arm three months ago and now he, Schroder, was condemned. The leeches had simply been to gain time. He said, “I don’t need your orders, you swine; I’ll show you yet . . .”

  “Put on your coat,” ordered Melito, his face radiant with diabolical delight. “Your coat, and then out immediately.”

  “Just a moment while I get my things,” said Schroder, already far less sure of himself. “As soon as I’ve packed my things I’ll be off, you can rest assured.”

  “Your things will have to be burned,” replied the sheriff, smiling unpleasantly. “You’ll take the bell and that’s all.”

  “Just a few items,” pleaded Schroder, previously so fearless and complacent; now he was appealing to the sheriff like a child. “My clothes, my money, surely you’ll allow me to have them!”

  “Your jacket and your coat, that’s all. The rest will have to be burned. The horse and carriage have already been dealt with.”

  “What? What do you mean?” stammered the merchant.

  “Your horse and carriage have been burned, that’s the law,” replied the sheriff, enjoying his desperation. “Why, you had visions of a leper going around in a carriage, did you?”

  He gave a coarse laugh, then said brutally, “Come on, get out of here! We’re not going to spend all day talking about it, you know. Get out immediately, you dog!”

  Tall and sturdy as he was, Schroder was trembling all over as he left the room with the barrel of Melito’s gun pointed at his back, his mouth slackly open, his face blank.

  “The bell!” shouted Melito, making him jump and throwing the mysterious parcel onto the ground in front of him, where it fell with a metallic clang. “Take it out and tie it around your neck.”

  Schroder bent over effortfully as though he were a frail old man, pi
cked up the parcel, slowly undid the string and produced a pristine copper bell with a neatly made wooden handle. “Around your neck,” barked Melito. “A little more speed, or I swear I’ll shoot!”

  But Schroder’s hands were shaking so much that it was not easy for him to carry out the sheriff’s orders. Finally, however, he did manage to get the string around his neck so that the bell hung down over his stomach and rang at every movement.

  “Take it in your hand and ring it, by Heaven! You can, I suppose, a great fellow like you! You make a fine leper!” Don Valerio went on mercilessly while the doctor, completely silenced by the hideous scene, shrank into a corner.

  Unsteadily, Schroder began to negotiate the stairs; he was nodding his head from side to side like certain idiots one sometimes comes across on village streets. When he had gone down two steps he turned around to stare balefully at the doctor.

  “It’s not my fault,” stammered Lugosi. “It’s just terribly unfortunate.”

  “Come on now, move on,” interrupted the sheriff as though he were driving an animal. “Ring your bell, I tell you—people have got to know you’re coming!”

  Schroder went on downstairs. He appeared at the door of the inn and walked slowly across the square. People, dozens and dozens of them, stood aside to let him pass, drawing back as he approached. The square was wide and he took some time to cross it. Stiffly, he rang the bell, which had a clear, gay sound: ding ding, it went.

  The Slaying of the Dragon

  IN MAY 1902, A PEASANT IN THE SERVICE OF COUNT Gerol, one Giosue Longo, who often went hunting in the mountains, reported that he had seen a large animal, resembling a dragon, in Valle Secca. Palissano, the last village in the valley, had long cherished a legend that one such monster was still living in certain arid passes in the region. But no one had ever taken it seriously. Yet on this occasion Longo’s obvious sanity, the exactitude of his account, the absolutely accurate and unwavering repetition of details of the event, convinced people that there might be something in it, and Count Martino Gerol decided to go and find out. Naturally he was not thinking in terms of a dragon; but it was possible that some huge rare serpent was still living in those uninhabited valleys.