In her attempt to play the part of the despairing wife, Signora Sveva went that very evening to see Dr Ballarò, the general practitioner who also fulfilled the role of psychiatrist. It was his responsibility to issue the licence authorising the removal in the council’s van for the insane of those who had gone mad.
‘I’m worried about my husband,’ the Signora stuttered out, amid tears. ‘I’m at the end of my tether and I feel totally responsible for the crisis which has undone him. But something must be done. He’s getting worse day by day.’
‘I imagine that you want the Engineer to be taken to the asylum. Is that right, Signora?’
‘Obviously he can’t be allowed to wander around freely … have you heard? This morning he started singing in church.’
‘You’re quite right,’ nodded the doctor. ‘Singing during a sung mass … it’s both blasphemous and criminal. We must have him dragged off immediately in the vehicle for the criminally insane, and with him all the choirboys, the priest, the sacristan … and he was out of tune into the bargain.’
‘Doctor, you’re not taking me seriously!’
‘Look here, Signora. If you want to get your husband away from the town and its surrounds, find another solution. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t be so obsessed with getting rid of him. I’ve had a long chat with the Engineer. I found him serene and relaxed. He has no resentment towards you or Colussi, no desire for revenge.’
‘Oh that’s wonderful, that is!’ guffawed the Signora. ‘No desire for revenge! You do not know my darling Count. His whole behaviour, every single outrageous thing he does, is conceived with the one intention of humiliating us, provoking us, driving us off our heads like him. Is there no one in this town who will apply the law in defence of the citizens?’
‘Stop right there, Signora,’ the doctor interrupted her. ‘I know exactly what laws you are referring to, the same ones you were pressing the police to use — an accusation followed by summary arrest. It is my duty to warn you of one difficulty: you in your turn run the risk of a charge of unwarranted harassment of a free citizen. What are you after, Signora? Your husband doesn’t get himself drunk, he’s not guilty of acts of obscenity in the presence of minors, he doesn’t use indecent language in a public place, doesn’t spit on the ground … he has a job, even if only an occasional one…’
‘A job! You’re well aware he has not shown up in the offices for over a month…’
‘I know. I’m talking of his new jobs.’
‘And what would they be? Singing in church, banging the drum, taking up the collection in church or lolling about at the top of bell-towers?’
‘No, no, those are only unpaid hobbies. I’m referring to his position with the sewage company.’
‘Do you mean in the sewers?’ She almost choked on her saliva.
‘Yes, the town council is responsible for around thirty cesspits scattered throughout the valley. Your husband volunteered to take charge of the cleansing operations and to see to the maintenance of the sewage pumps.’
‘So that’s where that stench that he always has comes from.’
‘Would you like a coffee?’ he asked, to take the heat out of the situation. ‘It’s freshly made.’
‘No, thank you. I am stuck with a sewage operator of a husband who puts on a stinking farce to cover me with shit in front of the whole town, and you lot are helping him out. You’re all in it together.’ She rose to her feet, issuing her parting shot as she exited. ‘Bunch of shits!’
A few days later, the word got about that her daughter Alfa had run away from home. Colussi, prompted by the girl’s mother, went in search of her. Good Friday was at hand. At that time, all the bells were tied up for the seven preceding days so that their ding-dong would not break the sacred silence. For the same reason, the clockwork mechanism which marked each hour with the ringing of the bells was switched off. The mascarat-de-dolo [the dolorous masks] roamed around the valley: these were groups of children who painted their faces red, dressed in black, waved rattles and swung bundles of ropes with which they mimed the action of scourging each other. At each crossroads, the mascarat-de-dolo stopped and issued warnings in the traditional manner:
‘Sem arrivà al primo quarto’
‘El Signor l’è bastonà’
‘Spudà’
‘E ghe fan turment’
‘Jesus basa i ogi e no’ fa lament’
‘Bative, bative!’
‘We have come to the first quarter’
‘The Lord has been struck’
‘Spat on’
‘They torment him’
‘Jesus, lower your eyes and make no lament’
‘Beat yourselves, beat yourselves!’
With the flagellation completed, they went on their way in silence to the next crossroads, but this year the mascarat-de-dolo inserted a variation into the journey. They continued towards the piazza facing the Mangelli Palace, and there they stood a moment in silence until the chief penitent gave a signal, whereupon they launched into a refrain freshly composed for the occasion.
‘Vergognanza e perdisiun’
‘Bative!’
‘Sbatiment de dona grama, el Signor a ve condana’
‘Fornigon’
‘Femena bramosa scelerà, i vergogn te saran brusà’
‘Tuti pecator smorbidi, dentra al fogo sarit rostidi!’
‘Pentive! Pentive!’
‘Shame and perdition’
‘Beat yourselves!’
‘Wretched woman’s embrace, the Lord will you condemn’
‘Fornicators’
‘Lustful, wicked woman, your loins will burn’
‘All evil sinners will roast in the fire!’
‘Repent! Repent!’
And off they went, miming flagellation and dancing like tarantulas on heat.
In her house, Signora Sveva put her hands over her ears, let out a scream and exploded in rage. She threw open the terrace window, came out brandishing a twin-bore hunting rifle, which she fired at the group of penitents. Two tremendous broadsides. General stampede. Two or three children rolled down the staircase, pierced by pellets from the gun.
In those years, the Stations of the Cross were still erected on the night of Good Friday. Each village was responsible for preparing one scene from The Passion of Christ, and the parishioners of Porto had the task of staging the so-called ‘Prologue to the Passion’, that is the scene featuring Herod slavering for the love of Salomè, and the subsequent beheading of Saint John the Baptist. I too was a member of the troupe, and was assigned a wonderful part — that of the slave with the fan. My job was to stand at the back and wave the huge fan so as to cool down the tyrant, his lover Herodias and the splendid Salomè, the solo dancer.
The moment the procession arrived at the town hall portico which served as the stage, four searchlights were switched on and Herod appeared embracing his lover. Herodias was played by a boy, Stralusc (which means ‘arrow’ in the local dialect), who, with all the necessary apparel of wig and breasts, had been dressed up as a woman. The processors took their stance around the portico, and many people came to the windows of the houses and palaces surrounding the piazza. Signora Sveva herself appeared on the terrace of the Mangelli residence.