“Peppe was amazed.”
“Shall I believe that there appeared a wealthy prince?
“Yes.”
“Who is he, I wonder?”
“Does it make any difference?”
Peppe sat on a chair.
“Who would ever think... Are you happy?’
“Oh yes, I am. I want to forget everything and start a new life. Don’t I deserve to be happy for a while?”
“I will only be happy for you. You have always been different from the others. I felt quite different with you. The other girls are real whores, but you aren’t. Come, let’s take a walk. Let’s sit in a café, have a cup of coffee and talk. It’ll be our farewell party.”
Margot looked into his eyes. Peppe’s eyes smiled kindly at her.
They stopped at a little café downtown. They went in and took their seats.
“Two coffees,” Peppe said to the waiter and asked Margot:
“Would you like to have some drink?”
“No thanks.”
“Okay then. Bring me a double scotch” he added, looking at the waiter.
It was quiet in the café. Outside the evening was peaceful too. Peppe lit a cigarette and sat silent for some time. Then he asked Margot:
“Are you planning to stay here or are you moving to some other place?”
Margot didn’t know for sure what she was going to do, but she answered firmly:
“No, I can’t stay here. I hate everything I touch. Everything and everyone seem filthy to me except you and Lily, of course.
There came a long pause.
“If you happen to be in a trouble and need my help, you know where to find me. Don’t be hesitant; I’m the same Peppe Segara. I can’t change my life.”
Margot smiled at him.
“Thank you, Peppe! You have always been very kind to me. And now, please, take me home; I’d like to be alone for some time.”
They got into the car and drove slowly. They didn’t speak on the way, and Peppe was looking into the rear window all the time.
They stopped at Margo’s house.
“I wish you all the best, my dear girl,” Peppe said. At that very moment a car stopped abruptly by their side. Peppe put his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket, and Margot could only see a strange light followed by a terrible bang.
The car started as abruptly as it stopped.
Margot and Peppe were sitting motionless in their seats. The passers-by tried to avoid looking at the broken glass of the car.
In the morning the newspaper headlines announced:
The notorious criminal, Peppe Segara, is shot in his own car!
***
A month later, a car stopped at the mansion house of the Silva family.
Lola hurried to the car, meeting Enrique.
Enrique hugged her, whispering:
“This is my son, Luke De Silva, Lola.”
Luke was fast asleep in the back seat of the car.
1 9 2 1
There were a lot of people in the streets.
It was morning twilight.
The line of the horseback riders, coming from Sololaki district, seemed to be endless.
People were standing in small crowds in Yerevan Square. They were talking nearly whispering, in very low voices.
Horse carriages were no longer moving in Golovinsk Avenue.
No one could smell the fragrance of the spring.
There were crowds of people in the street.
There were lots of them near Soboro as well.
It was obvious that something extraordinary, not quite comprehendible was going on.
New epoch was coming on.
There was a great variety of people, dressed alike, mixing up in the Government Building.
“What’s up?” a young man asked.
“Where is the government?” a middle-aged gentleman asked.
Nobody gave any answers.
An overcrowded ship left Batumi taking course due Istanbul.
The new epoch was coming on.
THE BRAND LABEL OF THE MAGLIANOS
Katanzaro is a beautiful, tiny town in South Italy. It’s famous for her potters.
Each family has its individual tradition. The individuality becomes explicite in the shape and coloring of the pottery.
Magliano is one of the oldest family names in Katanzaro and Magliano handicrafts can easily be distinguished from all the others. They say, the family has existed for three centuries already, and it was initiated by Jenaro Magliano himself, whose creations are still the pride of the town museum. The Maglianos are very proud of their famous ancestor.
Their workshop is near their house, and they spend all day working there.
Despite the fact that several of his off-springs followed the family business, the Grandpa Magliano left the Magliano stamp to Pedro, thus giving him the exclusive right of putting the brand label on the pottery.
The apprentices of the masters in each family are their own children or close relatives as a rule. Pedro had two apprentices: his own son, Antonio, and two nephews, Francesco and Jovani. The boys were all of the same age.
There were several machine tools in the workshop – one for Pedro, and the rest for the boys. Pedro was working, of course, and the boys were still learning the craft. It wasn’t easy for them – the clay didn’t easily obey them yet.
Francesco was a bit better than the others.
***
It was late evening when Pedro returned home. His wife got supper ready for him and they sat at table. Pedro seemed very tired; he was eating his supper slowly, taking a rest every now and then.
“I’m getting too tired these days,” he admitted.
His wife didn’t answer anything. She poured some red wine into his glass. Pedro took a sip.
“I have been watching the boys for twenty-five years already. I have put the brand label on their pottery myself.” He took another sip and ran his hands down his white beard. “I made decision long ago – I’m leaving the stamp to Francesco, he deserves it better than the others.”
“Are you in mind?” his wife protested. “What about Antonio?”
“You can’t understand it, woman,” the old man muttered without looking at her.
The very next day the rumor spread in the whole town that the Magliano stamp went to Francesco Magliano.
***
Antonio was upset all day long. His father tried to talk to him, but all in vain. He emptied the whole bottle of grappa, but was still quite sober. He paced the room up and down non-stop. Then he lay down and tried to sleep. He couldn’t. He couldn’t find peace. So he went on pacing till dawn. Then, as if something occurred to him, he put on his coat, ran out into the street, and hurried to the workshop. It was half dark there. He sat on a chair, scrutinizing his pottery. Then he came up to each sample, examined it again, and even touched it with his hands. He started to cry. In the end, he turned round rapidly and went decidedly to the door. Suddenly he stopped again and stood in the doorway his head drooping for a while. Then he snatched a stool and threw it at the biggest pots standing near him. It made him feel better. He broke all his pots, threw the stool on the floor and ran out of the workshop.
There was nobody in the street. Antonio went home, took some papers, documents and a little money out of the cupboard drawer, ran into the street again and headed towards the railway station. He bought a ticket for the Rejo die Calambria – Naples train, and sat on a bench, waiting for the train to arrive.
***
In Naples he stopped at the hotel “Volturno”. He strolled in the city for several days. He felt as if he was walking in a dream. He couldn’t imagine his future life. He even thought of suicide, but then decided not to do it. He was drinking grappa all the time, and a lot of crazy ideas came to his misty mind. In the mornings he suffered from a terrible hang-over, until he went downstairs to have another drink.