Night Games: And Other Stories and Novellas (18 page)

With that miserable summer's day, misfortune seemed to have
moved permanently into the house of old Lagardi. The harvest failed
year after year, and a relative cheated the old man out of the small
amount of money he had managed to save. When he was felled by a
stroke while out in the fields on a sweltering August day and died, he left
nothing but debts. The small estate was sold, and the two brothers, now
homeless and poor, left the village.

Carlo was twenty, Geronimo fifteen years old. It was then that they
began their life of begging and wandering which they led to this day. At
first Carlo had thought about looking for some sort of work that would
support the two of them, but nothing had worked out. Besides, Geronimo
was restless and always wanted to be on the road.

For twenty years now they had been wandering up and down the
roads and mountain passes of northern Italy and the southern Tirol, placing themselves wherever the heaviest stream of travelers flowed by.

And even if Carlo now, after so many years, no longer felt the burning torment with which every gleam of the sun, every view of a pleasant
landscape, had earlier filled him, an ever-present, gnawing pity of which he was scarcely aware was always with him, like the beating of his heart
and the heaving of his breath. And he was glad when Geronimo got
drunk.

The carriage with the German family had driven off. Carlo sat down
on the bottom step of the stairs, as he liked to do, but Geronimo remained
standing. letting his arms hang limply down and tilting his head skyward.

Maria, the maid, came out of the inn above.

"Did you make a lot of money today?" she called down.

Carlo didn't even turn around. The blind man bent over toward his
glass, picked it up off the ground, and drank to Maria. In the evening she
would sometimes sit with him in the inn, and he knew that she was goodlooking.

Carlo leaned forward and looked down the road. The wind was
blowing, and the rain clattered so loudly on the stones that the rumbling
of the oncoming carriage was lost in the violent noise. Carlo stood up
again and once more took his place at his brother's side.

Geronimo began to sing while the carriage with only one passenger
was pulling in. The driver hurriedly unhitched the horses and then rushed
up to the inn. The traveler remained seated in his corner, completely enveloped in his grey raincoat. He did not seem to hear the singing at all.
But after a while he jumped out of the carriage and paced up and down
near it in great haste. He kept rubbing his hands together to warm himself. Only then did he seem to notice the beggars. He placed himself opposite them and looked them over for a long time. Carlo nodded his head
slightly, as though to greet him. The traveler was a very young man with
a handsome, beardless face and restless eyes. After he had stood watching the beggars for a long time, he once more hurried over to the gate
through which he would continue his travels, and shook his head in annoyance at the bleak view of the rain and the fog that presented itself to
him.

"Well?" asked Geronimo.

"Nothing yet," answered Carlo, "He'll probably give us something
when he leaves."

The traveler came back and leaned against the side of the carriage.
The blind man began to sing. Now the young man seemed suddenly to listen with great interest. The stable boy appeared and hitched up the
horses again. And only then, as if it were just now occurring to him, did
the young man reach into his pocket and give Carlo a franc.

"Oh thank you, thank you," said Carlo.

The traveler seated himself in the carriage and wrapped himself in
his coat again. Carlo picked up the glass from the ground and went up the
wooden stairs. Geronimo continued to sing. The traveler leaned out of
the carriage and shook his head with a simultaneous expression of superiority and sadness. Suddenly an idea seemed to strike him, and he
smiled. He turned to the blind man who was standing barely two steps
away from him, and asked, "What's your name?"

"Geronimo."

"Well, Geronimo, look out, don't let yourself be cheated!" At that
moment the coachman appeared at the top of the stairs.

"What do you mean, `cheated,' sir?"

"I just gave your companion a twenty-franc piece."

"Oh, sir, thank you, thank you."

"Yes. Well, watch out."

"He's my brother, sir; he doesn't cheat me."

The young man was taken aback for a moment, but while he was
still deliberating on this, the coachman climbed into his seat and began to
drive the horses forward. The young man leaned back with a toss of his
head as though to say: destiny, take your course! And the carriage drove
away.

The blind man sent lively gestures of gratitude in his direction, with
both hands. Then he heard Carlo, who had just come out of the inn, call
down to him, "Come on up, Geronimo, it's warm up here. Maria's made
a fire."

Geronimo nodded, tucked his guitar under his arm, and groped his
way up the stair rail. While still on the stairs, he began to shout, "Let me
feel it! how long it's been since I last felt a gold piece!"

"What?" asked Carlo. "What are you talking about?"

Geronimo arrived at the top and reached for his brother's head with
both hands, a gesture he always used to express joy or tenderness.
"Carlo, my dear brother, there are good people in the world after all!"

"Of course," said Carlo. "Up to now we've made two lire and thirty
centimes, and there's also some Austrian money, maybe half a lire."

"And twenty francs-and twenty francs!" shouted Geronimo. "I
know about it!" He staggered into the room and plopped heavily down
on the bench.

"You know about what?" asked Carlo.

"Stop joking around already! Put it in my hand! How long it's been
since I've had a gold piece in my hand!"

"What are you talking about? Where would I get a gold piece?
There are two or three lire here."

The blind man pounded on the table. "That's enough now, enough!
Are you trying to hide it from me?"

Carlo looked at his brother with apprehension and astonishment. He
sat down next to him, moved up close, and grasped his arm soothingly.
"I'm not trying to hide anything from you. How can you think that? It
didn't occur to anyone to give me a gold coin, I can assure you!"

"But he told me he did!"

"Who?"

"The young man who was pacing up and down."

"What? I don't understand."

"Well, he said to me, 'What's your name?' and then, 'Watch out,
watch out, don't let yourself be cheated!"'

"You must have been dreaming, Geronimo-this is nonsense."

"Nonsense'? I heard him say it, and I hear well. 'Don't let yourself
be cheated, I gave him a gold piece.' No, actually he said, 'I gave him a
twenty-franc piece.' "

The innkeeper came in. "What's the matter with you two? Have you
given up your business? A four-horse carriage just drove up."

"Come on," shouted Carlo, "come on!"

Geronimo remained seated. "Why'? Why should I come? What
good does it do me'? You stand there and-"

Carlo touched him on his arm. "Calm down; come on down now!"

Geronimo fell silent and obeyed his brother. But on the steps he
said, "We'll talk about this later, we'll talk about this later!"

Carlo could not comprehend what had happened. Had Geronimo suddenly lost his mind? For even though Geronimo was easily provoked
to rage, he had never spoken to him in this way before.

In the carriage that had just arrived sat two Englishmen. Carlo
tipped his hat to them, and the blind man sang. One of the Englishmen
climbed down and threw a couple of coins into Carlo's hat. "Thank you,"
said Carlo, and then, as though to himself, "Twenty centimes." Geronimo's face remained motionless, and he began a new song. The carriage
with the two Englishmen drove off.

The brothers went silently back up the stairs. Geronimo seated himself on the bench, and Carlo remained standing by the stove.

"Why don't you say something?" asked Geronimo.

"Well," replied Carlo, "it's exactly the way I told you." His voice
shook a little.

"What did you say?" asked Geronimo.

"Maybe he was crazy."

"Crazy? Wouldn't that be wonderful! When someone says, `I gave
your brother twenty francs,' he must be crazy, huh! And why did he say,
`Don't let yourself be cheated'-huh?"

"Okay, maybe he wasn't crazy ... but there are people who like to
play jokes on us poor folk...."

"Hah," shouted Geronimo. "Jokes? Yes, you would say that-I was
waiting for that!" He drank the glass of wine standing in front of him.

"But Geronimo!" protested Carlo, and noticed that in his dismay he
could hardly speak, "why should I ... how could you believe ... T'

"Why is your voice quivering ... hah? ... why?"

"Geronimo, I assure you, I ..."

"Hah-and I don't believe you! Now you're laughing ... I know
you're laughing!"

The stable boy called from below, "Hey, blind man, some more
people just arrived!"

The two brothers stood up mechanically and went down the stairs.
Two carriages had arrived simultaneously, one carrying three men, the
other an old married couple. Geronimo sang and Carlo stood next to him,
perplexed. What should he do now? His brother didn't believe him! How
was that possible? With a sidelong glance he anxiously observed Geron imo, who was singing his songs with a broken voice. It seemed to him
that in Geronimo's face he could see the shadow of thoughts that he had
never suspected before.

The carriages were already gone, but Geronimo kept on singing.
Carlo didn't dare to interrupt him. He didn't know what to say, and he
worried that his voice would quiver again. Then he heard laughter from
above, and Maria called down, "Why are you still singing? You're not
going to get anything from me!"

Geronimo stopped suddenly in the middle of a song. It sounded as
though his voice and the guitar string had both snapped at the same time.
Then he went up the stairs, and Carlo followed him. He sat down next to
his brother in the inn. What should he do? He had no choice: he had to
try once more to clear this up with his brother.

"Geronimo," he said, "I swear to you ... think it through, Geronimo, how can you believe that I ..."

Geronimo remained silent; his lifeless eyes seemed to be looking at
the grey fog outside the window. Carlo kept talking. "Well, maybe the
man wasn't crazy, maybe he just made a mistake ... yes, he just made a
mistake...." But he sensed that he didn't believe what he was saying
himself.

Geronimo moved away from him impatiently. But Carlo kept on
talking, with a sudden intensity: "Why should I ... you know that I don't
eat or drink any more than you do, and if I buy something new to wear,
you know it.... Why would I need so much money? What would I do
with it?"

At that Geronimo hissed through his teeth, "Stop lying! I hear how
you're lying!"

"I'm not lying, Geronimo, I'm not lying!" gasped Carlo, now
frightened.

"Hah! Did you give it to her already then? Or is she going to get it
afterward?" shouted Geronimo.

"Who, Maria?"

"Who else! Maria of course! Hah, you liar, you thief!" And as if he
no longer wanted even to sit next to him at the same table, he elbowed
his brother roughly in the ribs.

Carlo stood up. First he stared at his brother, then he left the room
and went down the stairs into the courtyard. With wide eyes he stared out
into the road that was sinking into a brownish fog in front of him. The
rain had let up. Carlo stuck his hands in his pockets and went outside. He
felt as though his brother had chased him away. What on earth had happened? ... He still couldn't understand it. What kind of a man could he
have been? To give a franc and say he had given twenty! He must have
had some reason for saying so`? ... And Carlo tried to remember whether
he had made an enemy somewhere who might have sent someone to get
back at him.... But as hard as he tried, he couldn't remember ever insulting anyone, or having had a single serious argument with anyone. For
twenty years he had done nothing but stand in courtyards or on the edge
of roads with his hat in his hand.... Did someone have it in for him because of a woman? ... But it had been so long since he had had anything
to do with a woman! ... the waitress in La Rosa had been the last one,
and that was last spring ... and no one could have envied her ... it was
incomprehensible! ... What kind of people existed in that world out
there that he didn't know? ... they came from everywhere ... what did
he know about them? ... This stranger must have had a reason for saying to Geronimo, `I gave your brother a twenty-franc piece.'. . . Well,
then ... but what to do? ... Suddenly it was clear to him that Geronimo
didn't trust him! ... he couldn't stand that! He had to do something to
fight back.... And he hurried back.

When he came back into the inn, Geronimo was stretched out on
the bench and didn't seem to notice Carlo's entrance. Maria brought both
of them food and drink. They didn't speak a single word during the entire
meal. As Maria was clearing the dishes, Geronimo suddenly laughed out
loud and said to her, "What are you going to buy with it?"

"With what?"

"Well, what are you going to buy? A new dress or earrings?"

"What does he want from me?" she turned and asked Carlo.

Meanwhile the sound of heavily loaded wagons and loud voices
rose from the courtyard below, and Maria rushed downstairs. After a few
minutes three drivers came up and took a table; the innkeeper came over
and greeted them. They complained about the bad weather.

"You're going to get snow tonight," said one of them.

The second driver recounted how ten years ago he had been snowed
in in the middle of the pass in mid-August and had almost frozen to
death. Maria sat down and joined them. The stable boy also joined them
and asked for news of his parents who lived down below in Bormio.