Chapter 5
The Old man detests the actors. It is a natural reaction: it is as a jealous director of his/her own role, a playwright that ache bears the personalismis of its characters.
And the actors, unfortunately, of this hate you/they have always suffered the consequences.
Accursed stock, sluggish race, banished by the religious comforts, opposed, ache born, if not for the brief necessary time to extract a smile, or to shift a tear. And, after dead, buried in desecrated earth.
The common ethic condemned them: windmills of shame, lasciviousness, lust. Disguised men that arrange him for vice between them, women that exhibit corrupt faces and perverted by the makeup, that an evening lies later with Clown and the evening they are granted without Clown reservedness, and in the meantime, away from the footlight, him voluptuous sollazzano with Colombina. Children, you tear from the road, you immediately wean to the art and first anchor to the sex.
Yet people rambled for the strolling players, able also only for few to dissuade the common people from his/her own poverties. Applauses in face and contempt to the shoulders.
But the Old man has well other motives to hate them: not certain the perversions. He/she knows well that, in as for iniquities, its satraps in earth are not second to anybody.
Your problem is that the actors escape from the cage.
You/they have understood the game the actors. You/they have understood that the life, that escapes of hand, riagguantata goes and enjoyed not in an only direction, bending the head to the strength of the tides that drags her/it I pour the death, but explored in every dimension, in every sense, from every angolatura.
The actor wanders free for the endless universe et husks: Guy can be later Caio one day and Sempronio the day. And the day later anchor, Guy, Caio and Sempronio can be alive all and three in the same instant, in the same individual.
And this the Old one doesn't bear him/it: the actors are imprisoned that they run away, I am pedine that stirs against the rules, they are more cunning guinea-pigs of the expectation, that make you unpack the experiment at the end.
And, prank among the pranks, today the actors are not ache anymore you approve. Not only: I am almost deified by the populace that with few is satisfied. Modern Ierofanies, steal the stage from the same Creator, that for this rosica. You have disappointed him/it, I have already told you him and I repeat him/it to you.
And Him, from his/her celestial stage, abandoned as a cesare on the triclinio of clouds, struggle in vain against the anger and prorompe, between squassi of thunders and glare of lightnings, in the hot tempered cry.
«I have punished you!»
But nobody feels him/it, because down there, in a small theater in Milan, an impudent beau assumes him to God, test to appear superior, test to look with solemn separation the prank perpetrated to his/her damages by the affections to him more darlings. He believes to have understood the game but it again succumbs to his/her cage, it reenters to precipice in his/her jail, it puts again the mask on his/her smooth and perfumed face, on his/her hair impomatati, on his/her room jacket in red silk.
It is prorompe in the same cry.
«I have punished you!»
A cry that reaches straight the heart of whom listens to him/it, that renders him an ovation at the end.
Leo Gala has just lost. Angel Sastri has won. You/he/she has crushed.
The character is again imprisoned, it is the horned husband and disappointed, it is the loser, devoured by the fire of the jealousy. The alone actor is free, since you/he/she is the essence of the character. It is his/her vital flame and the wince of his/her nerves and it is very more of all of this: it is his/her God.
And the public applauds, since in the public of the world, all, the pagantis and mails him, I am not anything else other than characters looking for actor.
Angel Sastri received the due recognitions from the small crowd of annoyed bourgeoises, incapable to understand how much of the disguised arrows of the evening in reality it got depressed really on them; together with him the usual cast, eight men, two women, that had been sharing the success of the performance for different evenings.
After two or three calls on the footlight, Angel dismissed for inactivity the companions and the companions.
It took the corridor that conducted him/it to the camerino and it slipped you without wasting time leaving behind of itself the left half open door. Stopped the cloths of Leo Gala, in front of the mirror it was able struccarsi with the usual indifference.
Little instants later, nevertheless, an echo of the rendered applauses him him it again reached.
A peaceful applause, ironic, private.
You turned and standing close to the door, supported to the stipite as the more consumed of the actors, glances mocking a figure befriends. It seemed a character gone out of the play: a young man, on the about thirty, from the studied elegance, with the standing kept chestnut hair from some bright gelatinous substance, the baffettis and the fly on the dandy chin of one past century. Even the smile seemed planned, provocative to the correct point, not to expire in the irreverence.
«Good. Good our Pirlandello.»
Angel grinned in to see him/it.
«Thing you have, beautiful tipetto? Have you decided to take you a blow of culture because his/her mother the bunk has not prepared you yet?»
«It is your mother that the bunk is preparing me. Then when I arrive I do her/it amuse some.»
You/he/she was introduced so Emilio Ricciuti, teacher and researcher of the faculty of biological sciences of the university in Milan, to the presence of the celebrated Angel Sastri.
Two friends of not long date but from the solid and communes you begin immoral. Few years were known through Helen before, sister of the one, laureanda of the other. Both adored her/it and with a similar premise all the other communions of intents were spontaneously in bloom.
Angel in the meantime had started over getting away himself/herself/themselves the makeup.
«Because you have come?» he/she asked direct, without losing himself/herself/themselves in suitable.
«It has to be us for strength a because? I like the theater, I like this text; I like I lead the actor protagonist but I am satisfied me.»
It scrutinized him/it through the mirror with distrust; it attended a movement, a footstep, but nothing shone through some intentions of the intruder. Angel loved that boldness.
«I am waiting» it added anchor, knowing well thing concealed him over that patina of separation.
With a movement studied in the times, it almost recited him same from a life, Emilio it inserted a hand in pocket. It drew a white envelope of it, sealed. Any heading, any sender.
Angel set aside for an instant every action, you/he/she observed reflected from now on to him the envelope.
«Well. You delay better that never» it commented.
«It completes the job, I give later her for you. Won't you want to stain the purity of this invitation with that streetwalker intruglis?»
The last cotton disk fell then in the basket of the refusals. Angel got up, without respect some for the guest. Neglecting him/it, it went to the locker and it drew the suits of it: a pair of signed jeans and a dark shirt to tall neck.
You removed with consumed ability the suits of scene, leaving that the alone briefs of adherent cotton covered its nudities. The penis seemed to quiver under the fabric that hardly held back him/it.
It had an athletic body, despite you/he/she had never made sport seriously; desultorily it frequented only the gym not to make to lose to his/her muscles that seductive sketch.
He/she remained for some lock, standing, leaving that the caresses of the fresh air the accapponasseros the skin. Everything the look of Emilio that didn't want, could not sway under the attention. The game of the parts could assume new, inexpressible rules.
You dressed again: the pantalonis, the shirt, a cotton sweater unstuck. Then the shoes, to close t
he work.
«Now I have ended well.» Measured footsteps conducted him/it next to Emilio. It stared at him/it in the eyes, without shames, bold and attractive. The brims the hand. «That is up to me.»
The envelope again slipped out of the pocket, direct toward the avid hand of Angel, but to the last one, as if the same receiver if it waited for him/it, you/he/she was again escaped.
«And Helen?» he/she asked allusive Emilio.
Disappointed, twice disappointed, Angel replied with bitterness.
«What it enters it Helen?»
«I thought that for this time you could involve her/it.»
"You know all about Helen", he/she thought Angel. "You have already tried there to throw her/it inside and you have failed. Now you wait yourself that succeed us me."
«You want to sweep her/it» he/she affirmed in front of the friend. «And since you have not succeeded to the times of the internee there, I/you/he/she try us with these stratagems now.»
The face of Emilio withdrew him. You/he/she could not really feel scorned by such an evident affirmation but it upset him/it the banality of the motto.
«You know well that he doesn't treat only to sweep. You know what behind our same existence is.»
The impudent seriosità disturbed Angel that, in answer, laughed. Laughed pedantic, laughed enjoying.
«You don't have to explain him/it to me. You have to explain him/it to yourself.»
«Now you offend me.» Severe words slipped on the river of laughs, that brought her in the sea of a peaceful conversation.
«Afar from me. I don't want to offend you, neither some of us. I say only the things as they are. I don't believe to surprise anybody admitting that, if it were my sister, also I would sweep me Helen.»
The trap of the confidence and both it went off they again fell imprisoned.
«Helen is unique. Not to have succeeded in holding her/it in university you/he/she has been my greatest failure. I know that you/he/she is looking for job, away from the laboratories.»
«And you/he/she has found him/it» it admitted his/her brother.
«When?»
«You/he/she has been assumed really today. Now it is an informant. By now it is out of our course.»
The pretense indifference of Emilio disappeared. Smiled mischievous.
«You are sure of it? You thing you know about the Furnaces Pharmaceutics?»
Angel was stricken but you/he/she immediately marveled him of his same surprise. Did it know the possibilities of Emilio, did it know those some organization: whether to surprise himself/herself/themselves for that pronounced name?
«Thing I should know?» he/she asked, attending satisfaction.
«Every thing to his/her time. Helen is not out still: you/he/she is ended in good hands, that you/they will know her/it to entangle, to educate and finally to enmesh. Do you perhaps believe that we would be let her/it escape this way? No, she has to unite himself/herself/themselves to us, you/he/she cannot avoid him/it, we cannot avoid him/it.»
Hunting had still opened. So many hunters for an only prey. Only that was his/her sister: how much as justification that to capture meant her/it to save her/it would have been worth?
«And such is, Brother» Angel complied.
Emilio removed him from the entry. It made a sign with the hand.
«After you.»
Angel confined to detach a jacket in velvet color purple from the appendiabiti and to wear her/it. But from there still stirred not.
«Professor Ricciuti: the envelope, thanks.»
Solemnly, as for an investiture, the candida envelope returned under the eyes of Angel.
To his/her inside few scribbles of pen pointed out the new one it covers of a long walk, initiated who knows whether to finish who knows where.
«Here to you: the address and the word of order.» Brief instructions accompanied the passage of hand. «Tomorrow we will be also guests of one of the ricconis with the villa in Brianza.» The envelope quickly slipped in the pocket of the jacket of Angel. «It doesn't need that I/you/he/she remember your maximum reservation. Burn her/it as soon as you will have read and memorized.»
It consented without saying a word: silent seal on a mute envelope. Anymore any word on the subject that evening would have upset attends him.
They were found to cross one of that corridors of service destined to the bleakness, a gut from conspirators with the scraped walls and grigie. At the end, a vernacular door antipanico opened in a more decent atrium. A last access directly conducted them to the foyer, still illuminated by two strong chandeliers of crystal. He/she anchors even populated, although the show was by now had been concluding for different time.
Distant Capannellis among them were entertained in conversations. Someone showed with discretion to have recognized the great Sastri, giving of elbow to some friend, pointing out him/it mentioning regards with the head.
From two opposite angles of the room, almost hidden in the reservation in which you/they were camouflaged, two separate figures had stirred at the same time.
Both were for Angel there and both had the right of it. But nobody knew about the other, and nobody knew that Angel could be already in company. Same angel didn't know about one of them and nothing of nothing knew the beau that at that time of Angel was the shade.
After all, the most innocent soul was really that of Emilio Ricciuti: amazed and pleased, it admired Helen to advance, bandaged of a suit of dark velvet, towering on dizzy heels.
Despite this, you/he/she could not avoid to contemplate that young delicious figure that stirred verse of them from the opposite side of the room with evident uneasiness. It was few more than a ragazzina and it exhibited entirely not his/her age aware of the attraction that could practice. A gonnellina left her open the slender and shiny legs, the abdomen exposed by little bottom the navel up to the edge of the panties in colored cotton it was not a simple mannerism of the fashion but an improper weapon to handle with a care that Laura still seemed not to possess.
Now that all were to the presence of everybody, it was really the disoriented Emilio Ricciuti to find from whether to start.
«Helen, is a pleasure to see again you» it risked, since they were months that he/she didn't see her/it.
«You know very well that it is not him/it for me.» Useless to waste delicacy for Emilio. It perhaps owed her/it to his/her brother, and to him it turned him without resentment, but not with smaller coldness. «I had promised that would be given to find you, today. But I see that you are already company.» And this last exit was accompanied by a glance of sbieco not so much to Emilio, as for the girl that was not waited for to find.
A glance that Laura recognized for hostile and that it nailed even more her to the silence.
It is in the tense and dense air, Angel, formidable amphitryon, introduced the unknown presents to the known ones.
«Expensive Helen. This is Laura the sister of Ettore. Do you remember Ettore, true? Laura this is my sister Helen. And these it is Emilio a dear friend of both. Emilio, Helen, knows already you to you.» it Laughed, the peasant, in which jest and boredom covertly cohabited.
«Some that I know him/it Emilio. Your dear friend.»
«Not to flatter too much me» it mumbled consults him.
Only to that point Angel decided to give his/her own attention to the alone one that you/he/she really deserved her/it. It was still in silence, exempted by hates and greeds, jealousies and repressed desires.
«Lauras, are happy that you have come» it softly turned him to the girl. «I had intention to introduce you the director but this evening you/he/she has not come.»
«You can always introduce her your best friend.» he inserted Emilio.
A new audacity that had the worth to disclose in the biondina shrewdness and malice.
«But you/they have already introduced us, Mr. Emilio.»
And as that untrustworthy so decent gentleman was an offense that the ed
ucation didn't succeed in disguising, such a broadside to be dashed to distance the most audacious of the seducers.
Unarmed, Emilio kept silent. Disappointed, Helen kept silent. Frightened by his/her same audacity, Laura kept silent.
Angel, providential voice, improvised still in the role assigned him by the capricious fate.
«Laura, if you are alone I can accompany again you to house, so we can speak more quietly.»
«No, I thank you. I have already called my father: you/he/she is coming to take me.»
«Helen?» it relaunched polite.
«They are in car» he/she answered it dries his/her sister. «It is decidedly rather now the correct moment to get out of himself/herself/themselves of, I return. True, little brother?»
«When you unsheathe your caratterino it is always the moment to get out of himself/herself/themselves of I return. True, little sister?»
«True. Then, good night. Hi Laura.» It was the only person that found convenient to greet for name. «You/he/she has been a pleasure to know you.»
«Also for me» the young, polite and perplexed one responded.
Also without giving to see him/it, Laura had attentively observed the face of Helen and reflex had found you that of Angel. It didn't even escape a distracted eye the so narrow relative among the two. That similarity was so seductive, really because in identical lines an abysmal difference nearly resided: at the same time if in Angel a vigorous masculinity was exalted, in Helen a mystical femininity glowed.
While Helen got further, Laura admired her/it and envied her/it, especially in the moment in which it perceived that more than a man among those shed for the room you/he/she could not avoid to follow her/it with the look.
Until a jail cell it captured the attentions. As to lunch: same suoneria, different parent, exponential embarrassment.
«Excuse me, it is already my father» you have to justify him Laura. «I hoped it did later. Now you/he/she is waiting me.»
«I should excuse me for the uproar. I leave you this.» Angel looked for in the jacket the wallet; the takings and you/he/she extracted a ticket, one of the so many peers. «There are here mine you deliver, both telephone and internet. This way we are free to feel us when we want.»
«It is all right» it accepted radiant. «I thank you as.»
Almost it didn't even dare read the ticket, as if it feared to find I void him/it. There was instead everything how much promised. It missed only the name, that Angel had decided to omit; to his/her place a sentence was read: The show must go on.
It accepted a kiss on the cheek and it got further, forgetting himself/herself/itself that the courtesy required at least to also greet the other presents.
But Emilio didn't want to mind the carelessness of Laura, taken as it was to revere her culetto.
«Enchanting creature» it murmured. «Careful, old my: I feel foul smell of handcuffs for you.»
Angel sketched. You/he/she had never tried bother for the roughness of the friend. At least until then.
«Then good night.» He turned him without delays.
«Good night? I thought you/he/she could be gone to sows together. But if so much gives me so much, better going home and to preserve the strengths for tomorrow.»
Emilio departed, it almost had to obey to someone.
Angel remained still some treading the scene of the illuminated foyer.
It was the moment in which someone usually took courage, it drew near him deferential and an autograph asked him or it limited him to shake his hand, lavishing himself/herself/itself in compliments. It was one of his/her preferred moments: that of the adoration.
But that evening didn't draw near anybody. As if what upset him/it pits so evident to arouse even fear in the public.