Read Online A Bell for Adano by John Hersey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Hersey
Ads: Link
sing.”
The Major said: “We are concerned here with the question of whether these carts should or should not come across the bridge into Adano. When you waste time with this talk, you are wasting the time of your friends who are waiting outside that door.”
Afronti gave another Fascist salute. “One day last summer,” he said in a louder voice, “I drove my cart all the way to Gioia di Monti, and all the way the wheels sang a song which was also a prophecy. At the time none of my friends would believe this song, would you, my friends?” And he turned to the other two.
The two nodded their heads, but the expression of their faces was blank because they were thinking of the speeches they were about to make.
Afronti’s voice grew louder and louder, as if he were outdoors. “Do you wish to hear this song, Mister Major?” Major Joppolo said: “No, please come to the point.” Afronti stepped back. He unbuttoned his coat. He held his cap out at arm’s length and he sang. It was not exactly a tune he sang, but his voice went up and down, very loud. This is what he sang:
“The Americans are coming here, Signor Afronti,
The Americans are very just men,
Especially with regard to carts.”
Major Joppolo said: “Do not joke with me, old man. We have no time for humor this morning. I want to help you if you have something reasonable to ask of me. Come to the point.”
Afronti shouted: “The music has stopped. There is no more music.”
The Major said: “Please do not shout here. You seem to think that Americans are deaf men. We are not deaf. Do not shout.”
jAfronti said very softly: “The music has stopped, there is no more music, Mister Major. Thank you, Mister Maor.” And he sat down abruptly.
The Major lifted his pen and pointed it at the next man. “And you,” he said, “your name.”
This was a man who seemed a little backward. He was timid in the way he stood up and he did not twist his cap with any enthusiasm, as the others did. His voice was slow and he had to think a long time before he could say his own name. Finally it came out: “Erba Carlo, Mister Major.”
“And you desire?”
Erba stopped and thought. His eyes wandered. He looked at the Saint of the Telephone. He looked at the Red Cross badge on the breast of Princess Marie Jose. He thought and thought, but he could not think what it was he desired. He had forgotten his speech entirely.
After an embarrassing pause, the other two left off thinking about their own speeches and came to the assistance of Erba.
“Tell him,” one of them said, “about the water carts.” A look of vast relief came over the face of Erba. “It is about the water carts, Mister Major.”
“Yes?”
Erba looked at the huge painting over the Major’s head. He studied many details of the painting. But he could not remember exactly what it was about the water carts that he wished to say.
The other of his friends said: “Describe your cart, Erba. “
Erba said: “It is big. Outside it is dirty but inside it is clean. It holds water. My friends drink the water.”
After this sustained effort, Erba’s face was covered with perspiration. At first he looked proud and triumphant, but then he could see another hurdle coming. This time he looked frankly and directly at his friends for prompting.
Major Joppolo was frantic with impatience, but he said: “Yes, my friend, tell me some more about the water cart.” This was a quality in the Major that came out time and again: he was always gentle with those who evoked impatience, and he was always impatient with those who begged for gentleness.
“The thirst,” said one of Erba’s friends, “the great thirst.”
Erba turned to the Major with an expression of delight which belied the seriousness of what he was to say. He was delighted because it was all coming back to him now. He said: “You will not let my cart across the bridge. There is no water in Adano without my cart and the other water carts. There
The Major said: “We are concerned here with the question of whether these carts should or should not come across the bridge into Adano. When you waste time with this talk, you are wasting the time of your friends who are waiting outside that door.”
Afronti gave another Fascist salute. “One day last summer,” he said in a louder voice, “I drove my cart all the way to Gioia di Monti, and all the way the wheels sang a song which was also a prophecy. At the time none of my friends would believe this song, would you, my friends?” And he turned to the other two.
The two nodded their heads, but the expression of their faces was blank because they were thinking of the speeches they were about to make.
Afronti’s voice grew louder and louder, as if he were outdoors. “Do you wish to hear this song, Mister Major?” Major Joppolo said: “No, please come to the point.” Afronti stepped back. He unbuttoned his coat. He held his cap out at arm’s length and he sang. It was not exactly a tune he sang, but his voice went up and down, very loud. This is what he sang:
“The Americans are coming here, Signor Afronti,
The Americans are very just men,
Especially with regard to carts.”
Major Joppolo said: “Do not joke with me, old man. We have no time for humor this morning. I want to help you if you have something reasonable to ask of me. Come to the point.”
Afronti shouted: “The music has stopped. There is no more music.”
The Major said: “Please do not shout here. You seem to think that Americans are deaf men. We are not deaf. Do not shout.”
jAfronti said very softly: “The music has stopped, there is no more music, Mister Major. Thank you, Mister Maor.” And he sat down abruptly.
The Major lifted his pen and pointed it at the next man. “And you,” he said, “your name.”
This was a man who seemed a little backward. He was timid in the way he stood up and he did not twist his cap with any enthusiasm, as the others did. His voice was slow and he had to think a long time before he could say his own name. Finally it came out: “Erba Carlo, Mister Major.”
“And you desire?”
Erba stopped and thought. His eyes wandered. He looked at the Saint of the Telephone. He looked at the Red Cross badge on the breast of Princess Marie Jose. He thought and thought, but he could not think what it was he desired. He had forgotten his speech entirely.
After an embarrassing pause, the other two left off thinking about their own speeches and came to the assistance of Erba.
“Tell him,” one of them said, “about the water carts.” A look of vast relief came over the face of Erba. “It is about the water carts, Mister Major.”
“Yes?”
Erba looked at the huge painting over the Major’s head. He studied many details of the painting. But he could not remember exactly what it was about the water carts that he wished to say.
The other of his friends said: “Describe your cart, Erba. “
Erba said: “It is big. Outside it is dirty but inside it is clean. It holds water. My friends drink the water.”
After this sustained effort, Erba’s face was covered with perspiration. At first he looked proud and triumphant, but then he could see another hurdle coming. This time he looked frankly and directly at his friends for prompting.
Major Joppolo was frantic with impatience, but he said: “Yes, my friend, tell me some more about the water cart.” This was a quality in the Major that came out time and again: he was always gentle with those who evoked impatience, and he was always impatient with those who begged for gentleness.
“The thirst,” said one of Erba’s friends, “the great thirst.”
Erba turned to the Major with an expression of delight which belied the seriousness of what he was to say. He was delighted because it was all coming back to him now. He said: “You will not let my cart across the bridge. There is no water in Adano without my cart and the other water carts. There
Similar Books
