Read Online A Bell for Adano by John Hersey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John Hersey
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Behind Bellanca the others trooped in: D’Arpa, the weasel-like vice mayor; Tagliavia, the maresciallo of finance; the bullvoiced Mercurio Salvatore, crier; Major Joppolo’s unctuous little municipal secretary, Panteleone; the pearshaped Signora Carmelina Spinnato, volunteer health officer; Rotondo, lieutenant of Carabinieri; and the man who was charged with keeping the streets clean, the cleanest man in town, Saitta, in a white suit.
When they were all in, Major Joppolo stood at his desk and said: “I have promised to tell you every important thing which the American authorities decide to do in this town. I do not want this to be a town of mysteries. In a democracy one of the most important things is for everyone to know as much as possible about what is going on.
“The American authorities have decided that because of military necessities it will no longer be possible for mule carts to come into the streets of town.”
Major Joppolo could see his audience suck in its collective breath. He said: “I am not happy to have to announce this decision. It is because of military necessities. I am sorry. That is all.”
The officials of Adano, a comic-looking collection, turned sadly to go. They did not protest. They had learned during the years of Fascism how to swallow their protests. But Major Joppolo could tell that they were not with him, that for the first time in nine days they were against him.
Before the first of them reached the door, Major Joppolo said: “I wish to tell you that I will do all that is in my power to have this unjust order revoked.”
And when the comic-looking officials of Adano went out of the door of the Major’s office, they were still sad but they were for him.
The Major worried all day about the order and wondered what he could do about it. He slept very badly during the night, because of his worry.
Early in the morning, Zito, the little usher, came up to his desk and said: “Mister Major, there are three men to see you about the carts.”
Because it worried him, the Major snapped back angrily at Zito: “What do they want about the carts?” “That is something they wish to tell you, Mister Major,” Zito said. “It is something they did not tell me.” “Well, show them in.”
The three Italians were evidently poor but respected men. There was a kind of democracy in their coming to see the Major: they were the chosen delegates of all the cartmen, to argue this thing out.
They all had old, clean coats on, and they all clutched cloth caps in their hands. Zito brought three chairs forward, and they sat in a half circle opposite the Major.
The Major pointed with a fountain pen at one of the men and said in Italian: “You. What is your name?” The man was about sixty. His hair was pure white but the skin of his forehead, though furrowed, was the skin of a tough young man. He jumped to his feet, twisting his cap in his strong hands, and he shouted: “Afronti Pietro, Mister Major.” Then he gave the Major a Fascist salute.
“Speak softly here,” the Major said. “I am not deaf.” He leaned and spoke to the other two men. “Are you deaf?”
“No, Mister Major,” they both said.
“Then speak softly,” he said to the strong-voiced man, “What do you desire?”
“I desire,” the old man said, trying to keep his voice quiet, “to raise the question of the carts coming into the town of Adano. I desire to tell you, Mister Major, that these carts are most dear to us. I wish to tell you about my cart. It has two wooden wheels, Mister Major -”
“I have seen these carts. It is not necessary to describe the carts.”
Old Afronti gave the Major another salute. “But have you heard the music which is made by the wheels, Mister Major? The two wooden wheels of my cart sing to me. They do not sing Fascist songs, Mister Major, they do not sing Giovinezza or anything to do with marching. You may think this is squeaking, this music, but I can hear what the wheels are trying to
When they were all in, Major Joppolo stood at his desk and said: “I have promised to tell you every important thing which the American authorities decide to do in this town. I do not want this to be a town of mysteries. In a democracy one of the most important things is for everyone to know as much as possible about what is going on.
“The American authorities have decided that because of military necessities it will no longer be possible for mule carts to come into the streets of town.”
Major Joppolo could see his audience suck in its collective breath. He said: “I am not happy to have to announce this decision. It is because of military necessities. I am sorry. That is all.”
The officials of Adano, a comic-looking collection, turned sadly to go. They did not protest. They had learned during the years of Fascism how to swallow their protests. But Major Joppolo could tell that they were not with him, that for the first time in nine days they were against him.
Before the first of them reached the door, Major Joppolo said: “I wish to tell you that I will do all that is in my power to have this unjust order revoked.”
And when the comic-looking officials of Adano went out of the door of the Major’s office, they were still sad but they were for him.
The Major worried all day about the order and wondered what he could do about it. He slept very badly during the night, because of his worry.
Early in the morning, Zito, the little usher, came up to his desk and said: “Mister Major, there are three men to see you about the carts.”
Because it worried him, the Major snapped back angrily at Zito: “What do they want about the carts?” “That is something they wish to tell you, Mister Major,” Zito said. “It is something they did not tell me.” “Well, show them in.”
The three Italians were evidently poor but respected men. There was a kind of democracy in their coming to see the Major: they were the chosen delegates of all the cartmen, to argue this thing out.
They all had old, clean coats on, and they all clutched cloth caps in their hands. Zito brought three chairs forward, and they sat in a half circle opposite the Major.
The Major pointed with a fountain pen at one of the men and said in Italian: “You. What is your name?” The man was about sixty. His hair was pure white but the skin of his forehead, though furrowed, was the skin of a tough young man. He jumped to his feet, twisting his cap in his strong hands, and he shouted: “Afronti Pietro, Mister Major.” Then he gave the Major a Fascist salute.
“Speak softly here,” the Major said. “I am not deaf.” He leaned and spoke to the other two men. “Are you deaf?”
“No, Mister Major,” they both said.
“Then speak softly,” he said to the strong-voiced man, “What do you desire?”
“I desire,” the old man said, trying to keep his voice quiet, “to raise the question of the carts coming into the town of Adano. I desire to tell you, Mister Major, that these carts are most dear to us. I wish to tell you about my cart. It has two wooden wheels, Mister Major -”
“I have seen these carts. It is not necessary to describe the carts.”
Old Afronti gave the Major another salute. “But have you heard the music which is made by the wheels, Mister Major? The two wooden wheels of my cart sing to me. They do not sing Fascist songs, Mister Major, they do not sing Giovinezza or anything to do with marching. You may think this is squeaking, this music, but I can hear what the wheels are trying to
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