Read Online Numbers in the Dark and Other Stories by Italo Calvino - Free Book Online
Authors: Italo Calvino
Tags: General Fiction
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the telephone wires. Surveyors from the civil engineers were measuring the streets with ranging rods and spring-wind tape measures. The gasmen were using picks to open up big holes in the pavement. Schoolchildren were walking along in line. Bricklayers were tossing along bricks to each other, shouting: ‘Hey up, hey up!’ Cyclists went by with stepladders on their shoulders, whistling hard. And at every window a maid was standing on the sill washing the panes and wringing out wet cloths into big buckets.
Thus the regiment had to proceed with its parade down those winding streets, pushing their way through a tangle of telephone wires, tape measures, stepladders, holes in the road, and well-endowed schoolgirls, and at the same time catching bricks in flight—‘Hey up! hey up!’—and avoiding the wet cloths and buckets that excited maids dropped crashing down from the fourth floor.
Colonel Clelio Leontuomini had to admit he was lost. He leaned down from his horse toward a passer-by and asked:
‘Excuse me, but do you know the shortest way to the main square?’
The passer-by, a small fellow with glasses, stood for a moment in thought:
‘It’s complicated; but if you let me show you the way I’ll take you through a courtyard into another street and you’ll save at least a quarter of an hour.’
‘Will the whole regiment be able to get through this courtyard?’ the colonel asked.
The man shot them a glance and made a hesitant gesture:
‘We-ell! We can try?’ and he led them through a big door.
Lined up behind the rusty railings of the balconies, all the families in the building leaned out to look at the regiment trying to get into their courtyard with their horses and artillery.
‘Where’s the door we go out through?’ the colonel asked the small fellow.
‘Door?’ the man asked. ‘Perhaps I wasn’t very clear. You have to climb to the top floor, from there you get through to the stairs in the next building and their door goes through to the other street.’
The colonel wanted to stay on his horse even up those narrow stairs, but after two landings he decided to leave the animal tied to the banister and proceed on foot. The cannons too, they decided, would have to be left in the courtyard where a cobbler promised he would keep an eye on them. The soldiers went up in single file and at every landing doors opened and children shouted:
‘Mummy! Come and look. The soldiers are going by! The regiment is on parade!’
On the fifth floor, to get from this staircase to another secondary one that led to the attic, they had to walk outside along the balcony. Every window gave on bare rooms with lots of pallet beds where whole families full of children lived.
‘Come in, come in,’ said the dads and mums to the soldiers. ‘Rest a while, you must be tired! Come through here, it’s shorter! But leave your rifles outside; there are kids here, you understand…’
So the regiment broke up along the passageways and corridors. And in the confusion, the small fellow who knew the way could no longer be found.
Came the evening and still companies and platoons were wandering through stairways and balconies. At the top, perched on the roof coping, was Colonel Leontuomini. He could see the city spread beneath him, spacious and sharp, with its chequer-board of streets and big empty piazza. Beside him, on their hands and knees on the tiles, were a squadron of men, armed with coloured flags, flare pistols and drapes with flashes of colour.
‘Transmit,’ said the colonel. ‘Quick, transmit: Area impracticable… Unable to proceed… Awaiting orders…’
Enemy Eyes
Pietro was walking along that morning, when he became aware that something was bothering him. He’d had the feeling for a while, without really being aware of it: the feeling that someone was behind him, someone was watching him, unseen.
He turned his head suddenly; he was in a street a little off the beaten track, with hedges by the gates and
Thus the regiment had to proceed with its parade down those winding streets, pushing their way through a tangle of telephone wires, tape measures, stepladders, holes in the road, and well-endowed schoolgirls, and at the same time catching bricks in flight—‘Hey up! hey up!’—and avoiding the wet cloths and buckets that excited maids dropped crashing down from the fourth floor.
Colonel Clelio Leontuomini had to admit he was lost. He leaned down from his horse toward a passer-by and asked:
‘Excuse me, but do you know the shortest way to the main square?’
The passer-by, a small fellow with glasses, stood for a moment in thought:
‘It’s complicated; but if you let me show you the way I’ll take you through a courtyard into another street and you’ll save at least a quarter of an hour.’
‘Will the whole regiment be able to get through this courtyard?’ the colonel asked.
The man shot them a glance and made a hesitant gesture:
‘We-ell! We can try?’ and he led them through a big door.
Lined up behind the rusty railings of the balconies, all the families in the building leaned out to look at the regiment trying to get into their courtyard with their horses and artillery.
‘Where’s the door we go out through?’ the colonel asked the small fellow.
‘Door?’ the man asked. ‘Perhaps I wasn’t very clear. You have to climb to the top floor, from there you get through to the stairs in the next building and their door goes through to the other street.’
The colonel wanted to stay on his horse even up those narrow stairs, but after two landings he decided to leave the animal tied to the banister and proceed on foot. The cannons too, they decided, would have to be left in the courtyard where a cobbler promised he would keep an eye on them. The soldiers went up in single file and at every landing doors opened and children shouted:
‘Mummy! Come and look. The soldiers are going by! The regiment is on parade!’
On the fifth floor, to get from this staircase to another secondary one that led to the attic, they had to walk outside along the balcony. Every window gave on bare rooms with lots of pallet beds where whole families full of children lived.
‘Come in, come in,’ said the dads and mums to the soldiers. ‘Rest a while, you must be tired! Come through here, it’s shorter! But leave your rifles outside; there are kids here, you understand…’
So the regiment broke up along the passageways and corridors. And in the confusion, the small fellow who knew the way could no longer be found.
Came the evening and still companies and platoons were wandering through stairways and balconies. At the top, perched on the roof coping, was Colonel Leontuomini. He could see the city spread beneath him, spacious and sharp, with its chequer-board of streets and big empty piazza. Beside him, on their hands and knees on the tiles, were a squadron of men, armed with coloured flags, flare pistols and drapes with flashes of colour.
‘Transmit,’ said the colonel. ‘Quick, transmit: Area impracticable… Unable to proceed… Awaiting orders…’
Enemy Eyes
Pietro was walking along that morning, when he became aware that something was bothering him. He’d had the feeling for a while, without really being aware of it: the feeling that someone was behind him, someone was watching him, unseen.
He turned his head suddenly; he was in a street a little off the beaten track, with hedges by the gates and
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