27
Bossy hits got depressed on the front door of the barracks. They were the four of the morning and the wind it kept on blowing transporting clouds able to withdraw even more the night. Pietro jolted on the chair, you/he/she was dozed off by a mezz'ora. It inspected the room: the sergeant Podda there was not, you/he/she was perhaps gone out to make himself/herself/themselves a turn. Shoots her inflicted to Lucio you/he/she had upset some all, gotten used to an almost improbable calm. It got up making to crawl the chair and it advanced recomposing himself/herself/itself. Closed an eye and with the other one it scrutinized from the spioncino of the front door. Instinctively he withdrew, there was Emilio Masala out of the barracks. The front door opened without noise; the hinges were well oiled.
«Marshal, has to speak to you!» it said Emilio. It had a dark face brim.
Pietro made aside freeing the entry. «I pray, settled Emilio.»
Pietro advanced toward his/her desk. Emilio followed him/it and its barefoot feet left imprints of dust on the taut floor to shiny, identical to you tread on a massetto of cement semifresco.
Pietro sat down to his/her desk and also invited Emilio to do him/it. In front of them, in a space drawn between the redemption of the entry and the staircases of the superior plan, there were another desk and some full shelves of issues the den of the sergeant.
After all to the stanzone, a gate rugginoso introduced to the cells; it squeaked and it continually trembled. The wind inserted him from the fissures that they gave to the outside and it benefited him some game between the lock and its meeting.
Emilio lengthened the look. It fixed that grille impestata from the rust and a cluster of grape seemed him devoured by the mildew. The shivers came him. That sound, that anxious clangor, made to think to of the chains beaten to earth by a ghost. It had a trembling and he/she thought that perhaps Lucio was dead and his/her raging spirit the same waiting inside that cell to do him her to pay.
«Thing upsets yourself, Emilio?»
Emilio. «Here, me.» it jammed. It was complicated to continue. You rubbed the hands and if it twisted her for the tension. It was about to confess condemning himself but also his/her wife and above all his small, that to eat would have had to attend that his/her mother made the alms house for house; the salary of grading machine was the first charity.
«Holy Christ, Emilio, tell me everything. I don't eat you of certain!»
Emilio shook the hands on the desk and made to hang back the chair to the. It lifted the look and he/she saw the power on lantern that, with some oil lamps systematized in strategic points, it gave an illumination to the room soffusa. It loosened the taking and he/she left that the chair reverted in before beating on the floor.
«I have shot me to Lucio Figus!» he/she confessed, without whispering, telling him/it dry and definite way that didn't leave space to equivocal of sort.
Pietro chilled, you/he/she slowly got up then and you/he/she stared at him/it in the eyes as if Emilio a lie had just told him. But Emilio was not type from nighttime jests, Pietro he/she knew him/it and he still abandoned on the chair sinking among the arms. It connected the hands and it seemed to pray.
The light that shone in the eyes of Emilio had cracked after the death of Giuseppino, now the last invisible sparkling was extinguished also. Pietro saw them and he thought that they were as those of Giuseppino when you/he/she had seen him/it for the last time, dead. They were black, dark, immovable and inscrutable. «As has happened?» he/she asked him with a resigned quiet.
Emilio melted him with an eloquent grimace. «I have attended him from the wood that it dominates the well Amsicora and I have shot him to lie soba, to be sure to kill him/it!»
Pietro turned back above with the braccias. «Yes, but because?» This time its tone had altered.
Emilio the face covered him with the hands. «Daniel Minghetti has told me that you/he/she has been Lucio to throw in the precipice my child. To house of Lucio I have found the baptismal chain of Giuseppino. I could not do anymore to less less than to believe him.»
«Emilio, knows that if Lucio had to die you would risk thirty years of jail? Have not you thought about your wife? To your child? To yourself?»
Emilio raised him the hands from the face and sustained the severe look of his/her interlocutor. «But I don't want that he dies, because I believe is innocent!»
Pietro wrinkled the forehead leaving half open an eye. «I don't follow you Emilio. Have you shot him to lie soba and do you believe him/it innocent now?»
Emilio got up from the chair and leaned the hands on the desk, lengthening himself/herself/itself toward the marshal. «Lucio was the lover of his/her daughter marshal. I fear that Daniel Minghetti has used me to eliminate his uncomfortable rival. If you didn't know anything I apologize you but I could not do to less less than tell you him» it revealed, letting some droplet of saliva be escaped for the impetus of his/her words
Pietro started. Its legs became stems of celery ammosciati from the sun. The hands him they benumbed him as if it had the carpal tunnel. It was not the solo anymore to know that his/her daughter if it did her/it with the sordomuto.
«Yes, Emilio, knew about the history between Geneva and Lucio» Pietro was confided, «And I was not particularly happy of it» you/he/she added with a veil of regret.
Emilio avoided to comment. You limited to attend a verdict. Pietro postponed him/it. «I ask you to be here in barracks and to attend calm my return. I intend to make a visit to house Minghetti and to clarify the matter. If he/she returns the sergeant not to say a word, limited to explain him that you are in the barracks because I have asked you to wait me for deprived matters.»
Emilio made to oscillate before and back the head. You/he/she had understood.
Raised on two pillars, small lions of marble piantonavano the entry that brought Minghetti to the villa. An enclosure constituted with miniatures of Roman columns surrounded the garden of the villa. Few about ten more meters before the building of the direction it was glimpse.
The lead ring broke him three times on the front door of thick chestnut tree. Pietro was immovable with the hands in pocket. The feathers of his/her hat, wagged by the wind, they tried to detach himself/herself/themselves and to run away free in the air. They heard the releases of the cylinders. A shutter of the front door opened. Timid and afraid to the sight of the policeman uniform, the blonde girl that had welcomed him/it in the building of the direction appeared. «Marshal, has thing happened?» churches worried the girl.
Pietro got out of the hat and if you/he/she systematized him/it in front of the abdomen. «I hope for nothing! I would like to talk to Mr. Daniel Minghetti.»
«He/she sleeps of certain but if it is so important I go to immediately call him/it. But arranged you pure, marshal.»
Pietro settled in the couch of skin of the stay, crossing the legs. Thousand thoughts were pursued in its head. The clock to suspended pendulum on the wall articulated the five the time of the truth. To the center of a table able to entertain the whole generation of the Minghettis, a ceramics vase showed a composition of dry stiance that you/they projected their chaotic shade on the centers embroidered. They were similar to the scuettuses that were shot in air the night of the party from the sporting field of holy Barbaric.
Daniel Minghetti come down from the superior plan sustaining himself/herself/itself to the handrail of beaten iron fixed to the wall with some grapevines. It was awake from quite a lot. Its hooped eyes didn't lie. He/she wore a pair of light pantalonis and a black sweater above a white shirt. Pietro almost it didn't recognize him/it, accustomed as it was to see him/it in jacket and tie. «Some lends for of the visits, doesn't marshal, believe?»
Pietro scavallò the legs. «You will understand that I could not attend a more decent schedule.»
«Miss Atza, brings us two beautiful cups of warm milk» it ordered Daniel to the ruler. «Then, thing has happened?»
«You/he/she is ended, Daniel. Emilio
Masala has just come to constitute him in barracks. You/he/she has told of your meeting and of as you has instigated him/it to do what you/he/she has done.»
Daniel took a seat close to him. The reflex of the chandeliers gilded his hair as the patina of the fried bread in the egg. The eyes ambratis were precious drops to expose as piece appreciated in the cristalliera that was him of forehead, already silver position and luxurious services. «And can of thing accuse me?» churches become impatient, swinging before and back the closed hand to beak of bird.
«Already, of thing my child can be accused? To have said a lie?» he/she asked the voice of the ingegner Minghetti, that waited for on the gallery affacciante in the stay you/he/she had felt everything.
Pietro turned and saw him/it. «You also know you what has happened, engineer?»
Phillip Minghetti reached them. Inside his/her enormous night negligee color cremates it seemed even more low. «I know all, marshal, unfortunately. Daniel has immediately reported me that that" you have" combined!» You placed a hand on the forehead.
Miss Atza deposed a silver tray with two cups on the great table. The hot smoke was emitted by the milk darkening the light of the chandelier. «You also appreciate a cup of it you, engineer?» he/she asked him while with a teaspoon it threw the sugar in the cups.
«No, thanks Miss, I am well this way. Milk is the good ally for my problems of colitis.»
The girl smiled. «Two of sugar also for you, marshal?»
Pietro nodded. The girl poured the sugar and he dispersed.
Phillip Minghetti placed him in front of Pietro, to braccia conserte. «Marshal, if Daniel sinks you know well that will sink with him!»
"There is at the most here a meter of water!" they were the words that played again in the head of Pietro. The same words that you/he/she had pronounced the sergeant Podda five years before, while it was emerging from the precipice with the dead body of Giuseppino Masala in arm.
"There is at the most here a meter of water!" the first words had been that had returned him to the memory when Daniel Minghetti had confessed him that his/her father had intention to excommunicate him/it. If Daniel had disappeared from the graces of the Minghettis, for Geneva you/they would be closed with uproar all the doors.
Pietro had confessed the true motive for which Geneva didn't want to know more than him of it to Daniel, explaining her that he was invaghita of the sordomuto.
«Lucio?» you/he/she had asked Daniel with the disgust that he/she was read to clear letters in his eyes. Probably in that instant you/he/she had thought about being a manikin. If his/her woman had preferred to leave to put on him/it with a deformed ragamuffin, he had to be little thing. Then you/he/she was shaken by that feeling and you/he/she had said: «Marshal, I want to recover your daughter, in every way.» And they were those the words that Pietro dreamt to feel.
The memory of that fallen gold chain in the forgetfulness of the precipice was drizzled by the sky to the sudden one, in a sign of the destiny. Pietro was remembered some tinkling on the rocks, of the sparkling of that cross that turning himself/herself/itself in the void had pierced through his eyes. And you/he/she had hoped instantly that there pits still an only water's meter in that ditch. But God had given more him, because of water not us n'era a drop, dried not up more even by the drought. The gold chain was there, immovable, as a treasure of a well nuragico. Some opaque was alone, and it seemed same having been waiting for five years that Pietro returned in that accursed hole to take back her/it.
You/they had put on of accord, Daniel and he. One had instigated Emilio Masala, the other one was dealt with to put in beautiful sight the chain to house of Lucio, the intruder to be eliminated. "And had been all right!" he/she still thought Pietro.
«Marshal, beats this Emilio in a distant jail and you/he/she won't feel anymore him speak of him. You will save the life of my child, yours and, I guarantee you that if you will do him/it, you will bring in safe also that of Geneva» it promised the engineer.
«Is trying to buy the liberty of your child or do you try to avoid a scandal that damages you in the political scaling only?» Pietro goaded him/it.
Phillip drew a sigh and shook the head in a fierce denial. «I try only to make up for to the folly of an in love man and a desperate father.»
«I will think it, engineer, but I don't promise you nothing. This time I have touched perhaps the fund» it said Pietro starting to try repulsion for himself.
«A last thing, marshal. Geneva will have to disappear forever from the life of my child!»
«Oh, this I believe is the smaller problem, believes me, engineer.»
Angry, Daniel upset to earth the tray with the cups of milk. The din also woke up Clotilde to the superior plan.
«There are to decide my life of it as if it dealt with that of a pup of dog!» it howled.
Phillip tried to calm picking up him him an arm. Daniel shifted him/it and from the base of the belief he succeeded in grabbing the keys of his/her lance.
Phillip had shaken. «Fermo, done Daniel, calm, where do you go?»
Daniel didn't connect, you/he/she was furious. It climbed on the auto and it departed with the counter still opened. The counterblow of the push closed again him/it. Phillip remained leaned on the stipite of it brings her/it to observe I worry the auto of his/her child that the tornantis took for Ingurtosu.
«What has happened?» Clotilde asked him with a hand on the mouth and an amazed expression.
Phillip camouflaged his/her reality state of mind and answered her. «Nothing dear, returns to sleep. Tomorrow it will systematize him all!» But they were not the words that he/she thought.
Daniel pressed the foot on the accelerator, more than you/he/she was able. The auto wound agile on the tornantis; the rubbers screeched to every curve. It was tired to feel every time be said what it owed or it didn't have to do. The hand of the odometer touched the finecorsa and danced about as a compass in a magnetic field.
Daniel took to cry, without even not knowing him the why.
A sudden curve. Daniel didn't do in time to crush the brake. Its petrified eyes saw the road tighten himself/herself/themselves up to disappear from under the wheels of the auto. The fear, sottoforma of cry, accompanied the jump of the lance in the void. Daniel did only in time to leave the steering wheel and to huddle the bump being waited. If you/he/she had had some second in more, be pisses I set, even also cacato, to the face of the courage.
The lance ardea flew in the air. In the dark you/he/she could have exchanged for a muflone that jumped from a spike of rock to the other. You planted of face winds more meters under, then it tumbled turning upside-down himself/herself/itself about ten times. To every tumble, the auto played again of squeezed can of dishes beaten by the musical gang in the parades. When it jammed, a ball of plates was reduced to: the motor leaked a dense smoke, the glasses had bursted; the cabin had been broken in two from the trunk of a tree. Only the lighthouses were intact and they aimed creating a tunnel of light that salivates for then losing himself/herself/themselves in the sky to the insù. A tunnel from which the believers would have attended that the angels went down.
Daniel didn't go out of that car. A sepulchral silence was insinuated close to a decentralized wheel and he it finished in that instant to rotate.
It missed few to the six of the morning. Windows give they were infiltrated the only flashes of aurora that had succeeded in tricking the clouds full of rain. Emilio heard some footsteps in front of the barracks. He/she thought that you/he/she could treat him of the marshal as of the sergeant, that had not reentered yet. The door opened. When Emilio saw Pietro it got up from the chair and with the braccias the body it tightened him for a cold that only he felt. It had the hollow head among the shoulders and it seemed an old man at the end of his/her days. The swollen face, of one whom you/he/she had cried from when Pietro was gone out of the barracks, you/he/she screeched with the body dried up by the works.
«Then, as ha
s marshal gone?» Emilio stammered, convinced that its blood was turning himself/herself/itself into frozen water of mountain.
Pietro scrutinized him/it sad. Emilio possessed the same aspect of when the wind had shown him the destroyed dead body of his/her child. Pietro remembered well his/her whimpers and anchors him to him accapponava the skin to consider us today. That man, from five years, it felt sufferings that a person should never try. You/he/she was accused for the death of his/her child, ungenerously, but you/he/she had been so, and you/he/she had not lived anymore. Now that it risked to also become an assassin be goes crazy and it was only guilt of Pietro.
«Where you will bring me I don't care, I desire only that the Lord comes soon to take me and allows me to see Giuseppino again. Also only for an instant, correct the time to ask forgives him to have deprived him/it some life to alone five years. I have need that forgives me more than the heaven!» Rivulets of tears bathed the dirty imprints left by its feet.
Pietro met again in Emilio. Also him, after the death of his/her Barbaric wife, you/he/she was accused for not having succeeded in making to recover her/it. Unconsciously, but too much you/he/she had looked for perhaps even in every way of finding a remedy for the illness in Geneva. It was the only system to feel himself/herself/themselves less guilty than the death of Barbaric. Now it had of forehead a honest man that the destiny had crucifix with the most painful nails, those dipped with the blood of a child. And it was not correct.
The life, often with whom deserves him/it less, it has a good time showing off his/her sibylline paradoxes and, sometimes, giving a child to a man, you/he/she is not giving his greatest joy, you/he/she is inserting only the first wedge of the most atrocious suffering: the moment in which that child, as you/he/she has been given him, you/he/she will be taken back him, forever.
Emilio cried and didn't have any type of defense anymore. You/he/she was ended, a man defeated by his/her remorses.
Pietro felt his/her own heart shatter himself/herself/themselves as a mirror. His/her mind it was a book had been closing for years that he was opening, showing the raw pages of his/her life. Pages straripanti of errors.
The fear as that Geneva could die Barbaric you/he/she had been a small black stain in the brain, become then a metastasi that had prevented him from seeing what wanted really his/her daughter. An anoressico was become that, rather than the food, had refused and vomited the desires of a daughter and the duties of a father. It was a bulimic that was gobbled up to burst of inciuci and greeds, that inhaled to protect Geneva from an executioner that she didn't fear and from which didn't desire to be protected. They were actions that Pietro believed to have completed for his/her daughter, but in his/her depth he knew to have done above all her for himself, to calm part of his/her senses of guilt. You/he/she had come even to plan the killing of a man that had saved his life. The same man that his/her daughter madly loved.
Now, Emilio was in front of him. Pietro attentively scrutinized him/it and you/he/she understood that that rickety miner deserved a lot more than him to be father. The destiny had perhaps done him it to meet of intention, five years before, already knowing that Emilio would have represented his/her float in the ocean: the way of redeeming him and to return in peace with himself. Pietro had to stop being father to give the possibility to Emilio to return to be after all it thin.
«Emilio, returns home from your child and your wife!» Pietro whispered him turning the contracted face into a smile.
Emilio was disoriented. «Marshal, but have you understood what I have done?» churches drying himself/herself/itself the tears.
«I have understood very well, Emilio. You have shot to a murderous bastard, doing a favor to the community.»
Pietro lied and you/he/she was covering with mud the name of Lucio. It was the smaller evil: once dead you/he/she would have had to make I count him of more terrible things of that.
«You want to say.» and Emilio jammed. A small clear reflex sprouted in the obscurity of its eyes.
«Yes, I want to say that Daniel Minghetti has not lied you. That bastard of Lucio has really thrown your child in the precipice. You would not have been able to do nothing, you/he/she would also have thrown you if I/you had discovered him/it!»
Emilio tottered. «But that day, in the wood, nobody saw Lucio close to the source!»
Absurdly, the words came out of the mouth of Pietro as if him if the it was prepared for a theatrical performance. «That day, Daniel has seen with his/her eyes Lucio to throw Giuseppino in the ditch. To the epoch it was only nineteen years old and it was around in the wood with some friends, to smoke and to drink alcoholic to insaputa of the engineer that would have become angry. You/he/she was moved for making himself/herself/themselves an urination and you/he/she had seen all.»
Emilio the mouth dismay covered him. «But because you/he/she has attended five years to tell what you/he/she has seen?»
«Because Lucio had seen him/it and it threatened him/it. Daniel has always been stopped by the fear of what he would have been able him to do!» concluded Pietro with the nth falsehood.
Emilio felt the chains of the torment that broke him. Nient'altro there was not more that wanted to know, it was enough for him not to be responsible for the death of Giuseppino. Its eyes returned some green emerald that you/they had been five years before. It and resumptions to cry. The tears perceived him on the angles of the mouth but this time it perceived a sweet taste as the honey.
You/he/she had not been him to cause the death of Giuseppino; you/he/she could start over living and it had to start to be his/her father that had been an evanescent presence in the life of the small Franco.
Pietro embraced him/it. «You go, Emilio, and not to turn anymore you to look. Now you can finally feel free. I know what you have tried for these long five years. Anything happens to never speak of what has happened with Lucio. Take your liberty, because it is up to by law you!»
Emilio dried the face with the sleeve of the shirt and his/her face it was abducted from a smile attended for endless once. «Thanks, marshal! If it were for you, now I would be confined by some.»
Pietro interrupted him/it showing him the palm open of the hand. «Enough, Emilio, goes' to house that your child waits yourself!»
When he/she remained only, Pietro started to think. He/she knew that Geneva would not have looked anymore at it in face for what had done, and it was correct this way. The main point was that she took back him its life; it realized its dreams, only he cared this. If the decision in Geneva were to die young, without looking for a care or ending confined in a field of extermination, Pietro didn't share her/it but you/he/she was his/her decision and you/he/she had to accept her/it.
The stanzone of the barracks welcomed the sergeant Podda. «Marshal, has made a turn in the woods.»
Pietro contemplated his/her colleague and he thought that you/he/she was ready to be a marshal. «Sergeant, arrests me!»
Podda started and made him fall the hat. «How it says?»
«You/he/she has understood well, you arrest me. I have shot me to Lucio Figus!» it exclaimed and its face was finally serene.
The sergeant would have liked to ask, to contradict, to make so many things, but the face of Pietro convinced him/it not to dwell. «If it is this that you want, marshal goes» you/he/she sadly said well. «But because?» it continued with the last attempt to understand.
«I have shot him because I didn't want how same more with my daughter. Worth to be punished, is this that I want!»
«I am certain that you are your rights. Give me the hands, I owe you him.»
Pietro handed his hands. The sergeant put us some before shutting the handcuffs. It seemed him so maddish to arrest his/her marshal his/her teacher.
Two hours later sat in the balilla behind the sergeant, Pietro had the free hands. Soon you/they would have stopped her to him anchor, to Cagliari, in the jail of Buoncammino. That day had been father for the last time, even if in his/her cuor he/
she knew to have stopped being him/it when his/her daughter he was in love of Lucio.
Pietro was sad but he knew that from some part another man would have loved his/her child; a man that if you/he/she deserved him/it.
«Marshal, has arrived!» it announced the sergeant.
The gigantic front door of the jail opened threatening. Pietro closed the eyes and considered to when, in the house of Terralba, the midwife had come out of the room of Barbaric and you/he/she had shown him for the first time Geneva. «The birth has gone very well. Eccovi your daughter, is very beautiful!» you/he/she had told him. Pietro had picked her up in arm and cradled, crying from the happiness in front of the bed of Barbaric, that smiled beautiful as a queen. It was this the memory that gave him courage. Perhaps one day, certain far, Geneva would have acquitted him/it, and he is be returned to be a father.