Night Games: And Other Stories and Novellas (20 page)

He creeps farther into the room. Here on another armchair underneath some underwear ... Good God! here it is ... here is a wallet-he
has it in his hand! ... At that moment he hears a soft creaking. With a
sudden movement he drops lengthwise at the foot of the bed ... there is
another creak-and heavy breathing-a clearing of a throat-then silence again, deep silence. Carlo remains lying on the floor, the wallet in
his hand, and waits. There is no other movement. The pale light of dawn
is already breaking into the room. Carlo doesn't dare stand up again but
crawls along the floor toward the door, which is open wide enough to let
him through; he crawls farther out into the hallway, and only there does
he stand up slowly, with a deep sigh. He opens the wallet, which has
three compartments; to the right and the left there are only small silver
pieces. Now Carlo opens the middle section, which is closed with another latch, and he feels three twenty-franc pieces. For a moment he
thinks about taking two of them but quickly resists the temptation, takes
only one gold piece, and closes the wallet. Then he kneels down, looks
through the crack into the room, which is completely still again, and then
he gives the wallet a shove so that it glides underneath the second bed.
When the stranger wakes up, he'll think it fell from the armchair. Carlo
gets up slowly. Then the floor creaks softly, and at the same moment he
hears a voice inside the room say, "What's that? What's going on?" Carlo quickly takes a few steps backward with bated breath, and slips into his
own room. Now he is safe and listens hard.... Once more the bed across
the way creaks, and then there is silence. Between his fingers he has the
gold piece. He did it-he did it! He has the twenty francs, and he can tell
his brother, "You see now, I'm not a thief!" They'll start off on their journey today-southward to Bormio, and then through the Veltlin Valley ...
to Triano ... to Edole ... to Brena ... to the Lake of Iseo, just as they
did last year.... That won't look suspicious at all, since the day before
yesterday he had told the innkeeper, "We'll be going down the mountain
in a couple of days."

It gets lighter and lighter; the whole room is now lit by the grey of
dawn. Oh, if only Geronimo would wake up soon! It was so good to walk
early in the morning! They could still leave before sunrise. They'd wish
the innkeeper, the stable boy, and Maria a good morning and then be on
their way.... And only when they're two hours away, already near the
valley, will he tell Geronimo.

Geronimo stretches himself in bed. Carlo calls to him, "Geronimo!"

"Well, what is it?" Geronimo props himself up with both hands and
sits up.

"Geronimo, let's get up."

"Why?" He turns his lifeless eyes toward his brother. Carlo knows
Geronimo is now remembering yesterday's incident, but he also knows
that he won't say a word about it until he's drunk again.

"It's cold already, Geronimo. Let's leave. It's not going to get better.
I think we should go. We can be in Boladore by noon."

Geronimo got up. The sounds of the awakening house became audible. Down in the courtyard the innkeeper was speaking with the stable
boy. Carlo stood up and went downstairs. He was usually awake early
and often went into the street right at daybreak. He went up to the
innkeeper and said, "We're going to say our goodbye."

"Oh, you're going today already?" asked the innkeeper.

"Yeah, it's already really cold when you stand in the yard and the
wind cuts through it."

"Well, say hello to Baldetti when you get down to Bormio. Tell him
not to forget to send me the oil."

"All right, I'll tell him. By the way-last night's lodging." He
reached into his sack.

"That's okay, Carlo," said the innkeeper. "I'll make the twenty centimes a gift for your brother. I heard what he said, too. Good morning."

"Thanks," said Carlo. "Besides, we're not in that much of a hurry.
We'll see you again when you come back from your cottages; Bormio
isn't going anywhere, is it?" He laughed and went up the wooden stairs.

Geronimo was standing in the middle of the room and said, "Well,
I'm ready to go now."

"I'm coming," said Carlo.

From an old chest which was standing in a corner of the room he
took their few possessions and packed them in a bundle. Then he said,
"It's a beautiful day, but very cold."

"I know," said Geronimo. The two left the room.

"Walk quietly," said Carlo, "the two who came last night are sleeping here." They walked down carefully. "The innkeeper says hello," said
Carlo. "He gave us the twenty centimes for last night. He's out at the cottages now and won't be back for two hours. We'll see him again next
year."

Geronimo didn't answer. He walked to the main road, which lay before them in the light of dawn. Carlo took his brother's left arm and the
two walked silently down to the valley. After a short walk they were already at the spot where the road began to descend in long hairpin turns.
Fog rose up toward them, and the peaks above them seemed enveloped
by clouds. Now, Carlo thought, now I'll tell him.

But Carlo didn't say a word; he simply took the gold piece from his
pocket and gave it to his brother, who took it between the fingers of his
right hand, then pressed it on his cheek and on his forehead. Finally he
nodded. "I knew it," he said.

"Well, yes," said Carlo, and looked at Geronimo with surprise.

"Even if the stranger hadn't told me anything, I still would have
known it."

"Well, yes," said Carlo, at a loss. "But you do understand why, because of the other people up there-I was afraid that you'd take the
whole amount and-and look, Geronimo, I thought to myself that it's about time you bought yourself a new coat, and a shirt and some shoes, I
think. That's why I've ..."

The blind man shook his head vigorously. "What for?" And he
stroked his hand over his coat. "It's good enough, plenty warm enough,
and we're heading south anyway."

Carlo didn't understand why Geronimo didn't seem at all happy,
why he didn't apologize. And he continued talking, "Geronimo, didn't I
do the right thing? Aren't you glad? This way we have the whole amount
left. If I had told you up there, who knows.... Oh, it's a good thing I
didn't tell you-a good thing!"

At this Geronimo screamed at him, "Stop lying, Carlo! I've had
enough of that!"

Carlo stopped and let go of his brother's arm. "I'm not lying."

"I know you're lying! ... You're always lying! ... You've already
lied a hundred times! ... You wanted to keep this for yourself, too, but
you got worried, that's all!"

Carlo dropped his head and said nothing. He took the blind man's
arm again and kept walking with him. He was hurt that Geronimo spoke
this way, but actually he was surprised that he didn't feel sadder.

The fog began to break up. After a long silence Geronimo said, "It's
getting warm." He said it indifferently, as a matter of course, just as he
had said it a hundred times before, and Carlo knew: nothing has changed
for Geronimo. I've always been a thief for Geronimo.

"Are you hungry yet?" he asked.

Geronimo nodded and at the same moment took a piece of cheese
and a piece of bread from his coat and ate some of it. And they continued
on.

They met the mail carriage from Bormio; the driver called to them,
"Going down already?" Then other carriages, all of them going up the
mountain, came by.

"The air from the valley," said Geronimo, and after one more quick
turn, the Veltlin Valley lay at their feet.

Truly, nothing has changed, thought Carlo.... Now I've even
stolen for him-and even that's been in vain.

The fog below them became thinner and thinner as the rays of the sun tore holes in it. And Carlo thought, "Maybe it wasn't so smart after
all to leave the inn so quickly.... The wallet is lying underneath the bed,
that's bound to be suspicious." But what did all that matter? Could anything worse happen to him now? His brother, whose eyesight he had destroyed, believed that he stole from him and has believed it for years and
will always believe it-could anything worse happen to him?

Below them stood the big white hotel as though bathed in the gleam
of the morning sun, and farther below, where the valley was beginning to
broaden, the village stretched out lengthwise. The two continued on and
Carlo kept his hand on the blind man's arm. They went past the hotel
park, and Carlo saw guests on the terrace having breakfast in light summer clothes. "Where do you want to stay?" asked Carlo.

"Well, at the Adler, as usual."

When they finally arrived at the small inn at the other end of the village, they went in. They sat down in the tavern and ordered some wine.

"What are you doing here so early this year?" asked the innkeeper.

Carlo started a little at this question. "Is it so early? It's the tenth or
eleventh of September, isn't it?"

"Last year when you came down it was much later."

"It's really cold up there already," said Carlo. "We froze last night.
And oh yes, I'm supposed to tell you not to forget to send up some oil."

The air in the pub was heavy and humid. A strange restlessness
came over Carlo; he wanted to be outside again, on the main street that
went to Tirano, to Edole, to Lake Iseo, to anywhere, so long as it was far
away! Suddenly he stood up.

"Are we leaving already?" asked Geronimo.

"We wanted to be in Boladore by noon, remember? The carriages
stop at the Hirschen for the midday break, so that's a good place for us."

And they left. The barber Benozzi stood in front of his shop smoking. "Good morning!" he called. "Well, how is it up there? Probably
snowed last night, right?"

"Yes, yes," said Carlo, and quickened his steps.

The village lay behind them, and the road stretched white through
the meadows and the vineyards, alongside a rushing stream. The sky was
blue and calm. "Why did I do it?" Carlo asked himself. He cast a side ways glance at the blind man. "Does his face look any different than
usual? He's always believed it-and I've always been alone-he's always hated me!" And he felt as though he were walking along with a
heavy load that he could never get off his shoulders, as though he could
see the night through which Geronimo walked at his side while the sun
lay bright on all the roads.

And they kept walking, walking, walking for hours. From time to
time Geronimo sat on a milestone, or they both leaned against the railing
of a bridge in order to rest. Again they passed through a village. In front
of the inn there were carriages standing; a few travelers had gotten out
and were walking up and down, but the two beggars didn't stay. Once
more into the open road. The sun rose higher and higher; it must be getting near noon. It was a day like a thousand others.

"The tower of Boladore," said Geronimo. Carlo looked up. He was
amazed at how exactly Geronimo could calculate distances: the tower of
Boladore had actually appeared on the horizon. From rather far away
someone came toward them. It seemed to Carlo as though he had been
sitting in the road and had suddenly stood up. The figure came closer.
Now Carlo saw it was a gendarme, one like they often encountered on
the country road. Despite that, Carlo became a little anxious. But when
the man came closer, he recognized him and calmed down. It was Pietro
Tenelli; just last May the two beggars had sat with him at Raggazzi's inn
in Morignone, where he had told them a terrifying story of how he had
almost been stabbed to death by a vagrant.

"Somebody has stopped," said Geronimo.

"Tenelli, the gendarme."

Now they had come up to him.

"Good morning, Tenelli," said Carlo, and stopped in front of him.

"It's like this," said the gendarme, "for the time being I've got to
take you to the station in Boladore."

"What!" exclaimed the blind man.

Carlo turned pale. How is this possible? he thought. It can't be
about that. They certainly can't know about it down here yet.

"You seem to be going that way anyway," said the gendarme,
laughing. "It can't make much difference to you if you come with me."

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

"Oh yes, well, I beg you, Tenelli, how is it possible ... what are we
supposed to ... or rather, what am I supposed to ... really, I don't
know...."

"It's like this. Maybe you're not guilty. I don't know. In any case,
we received a telegram at the station that we should detain the two of you
because you are suspected, are the prime suspects, of having stolen
money from people up there. Now, it's also possible that you're innocent.
So let's go!"

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

"I am, yes, I am...."

"Come on! What's the sense of standing here on the road'? The sun
is burning. In an hour we'll be there. Let's go!"

Carlo took Geronimo's arm as usual, and the two moved slowly
along, followed by the gendarme.

"Carlo, why don't you say something?" Geronimo asked again.

"But what do you want me to say, Geronimo-what should I say'?
Everything will be okay, I don't know myself...."

And the thought went through his mind: should I tell him everything, before we stand before the judge? ... I can't. The gendarme is listening.... Well, what's the difference? I'll tell the truth in court. "Your
honor," I'll say, "this is not a theft like any other. It was like this...."
And now he made an effort to find the right words to present the matter
before the court clearly and understandably. "Yesterday a man drove
over the pass ... he may have been a madman-or maybe he just made a
mistake-and this man ..."

But what nonsense! Who would believe it? ... They wouldn't even
let him talk that long. No one could believe this stupid story ... not even
Geronimo believes it.... And he cast a sideways glance at him. The
blind man's head moved back and forth in rhythm with his steps as it
usually did, but his face was motionless and his empty eyes stared into
the air. And Carlo suddenly knew what thoughts were running through
Geronimo's mind.... "So this is the way things are," Geronimo was
probably thinking, "Carlo steals not only from me but from other people,
too ... well, he has it good, he has eyes that can see and he uses them...." Yes, that's what Geronimo was thinking, most certainly....
And even the fact that they won't find any money on me won't help
me ... not in front of the judge, not in front of Geronimo. They'll lock
me up and him ... yes, they'll lock him up, too, because he has the gold
piece.... And he couldn't think any more, he felt so confused. It seemed
to him that he didn't understand anything at all, and he only knew one
thing: that he would gladly sit in jail for a year-or for ten-if only
Geronimo knew that he had stolen only for him.