He looked at the little field around and enjoyed seeing it clear and green and smiling , as if it were his own and would one day be his home. A corner of the city was visible: some twenty close-packed houses, then others scattered one by one on the opposite hillside. Beyond was a patch of blue sea with motionless boats. The clear sky, cloudless to the horizon, the green of the country, those houses flung down haphazardly, reminded him of an oleograph in which colours had been levelled out by the machine, the painter’s idea muted by reproduction, its light and movement gone.
Like a child, smiling, with closed fists, he fell asleep.
He had an absurd dream about Maria, whom he recognized by her bright coloured dress. She told him that she knew that circumstances had prevented him from coming to that appointment. She forgave and loved him.
VIII
A LCHIERI, RUSHED AND FLUSTERED , holding a bundle of papers, was hurrying towards the cash-desk when he saw Alfonso, hat in hand, about to enter Sanneo’s room to announce his return to the office. He gave a cry of delight, tried to stop Alfonso, who passed by without noticing him, then grew calmer and sat down next to Giacomo, on duty in the passage and intent on deciphering a newspaper half aloud. Finding no one else to tell, Alchieri confided to Giacomo that this was the first time for a fortnight he had sat down to rest and not to write.
Sanneo greeted Alfonso cordially, then, turning back to a huge register on which he was writing in his big script, asked if he was well. Without waiting for a reply, in phrases interrupted by work which at intervals called for all his attention, he spoke of some letters left pending which needed answering as soon as possible. Then he handed him a few, to the accompaniment of explanations , which Alfonso only half understood, referring to things that had happened during his absence, a period which seemed to Alfonso much more than a fortnight away. Sanneo dismissed him with a piece of good news.
“Signor Alchieri will continue to help you—he works quite well … it seems.”
Alchieri stopped him in the passage and tried to hug him in thanks for returning at the exact date promised.
“I couldn’t take much more!”
Then he too began to explain various business matters and, there and then in the passage, handed over all the letters he had in his hand, statements of account or advice of drafts. He could not wait to be rid of them.
With those letters in one hand and his hat in the other, Alfonso went to pay his respects to Cellani.
He found him opening the post. With one snip of his scissors he opened an envelope, took out the contents which he threw on one side, and before putting down the envelope gave it a careful glance against the light. He too went on working while talking to Alfonso; but when the latter, with his usual shyness, murmured his thanks,reminding him that he owed his holiday to him, Cellani got up and went to shake Alfonso’s hand with a friendly smile on his pale face. His long sportsman’s body, elegant but weak, seemed borne along rather than self-propelled, so little energy was there in his movements and so exactly and unhesitatingly did he pass through the narrow space between desk and chair.
“You’re looking fine,” he said to Alfonso, glancing almost enviously at the latter’s sun-tanned face. He was in a hurry to return to his own place. Shaking Alfonso’s hand again he said laughing: “Now …” and made a show of writing very fast with the pen in his left hand.
Alfonso found that Alchieri had diminished his pending tray, and, sitting in his place, he decided under the encouragement of Cellani’s welcome to get it all done and allow no more to accumulate . Alchieri, coming from a barracks, had introduced in only a fortnight a system of work far preferable to Alfonso’s, who found it easy, at least at first, to keep to this. His improved serenity, reinforced by the open air, made him capable of
Like a child, smiling, with closed fists, he fell asleep.
He had an absurd dream about Maria, whom he recognized by her bright coloured dress. She told him that she knew that circumstances had prevented him from coming to that appointment. She forgave and loved him.
VIII
A LCHIERI, RUSHED AND FLUSTERED , holding a bundle of papers, was hurrying towards the cash-desk when he saw Alfonso, hat in hand, about to enter Sanneo’s room to announce his return to the office. He gave a cry of delight, tried to stop Alfonso, who passed by without noticing him, then grew calmer and sat down next to Giacomo, on duty in the passage and intent on deciphering a newspaper half aloud. Finding no one else to tell, Alchieri confided to Giacomo that this was the first time for a fortnight he had sat down to rest and not to write.
Sanneo greeted Alfonso cordially, then, turning back to a huge register on which he was writing in his big script, asked if he was well. Without waiting for a reply, in phrases interrupted by work which at intervals called for all his attention, he spoke of some letters left pending which needed answering as soon as possible. Then he handed him a few, to the accompaniment of explanations , which Alfonso only half understood, referring to things that had happened during his absence, a period which seemed to Alfonso much more than a fortnight away. Sanneo dismissed him with a piece of good news.
“Signor Alchieri will continue to help you—he works quite well … it seems.”
Alchieri stopped him in the passage and tried to hug him in thanks for returning at the exact date promised.
“I couldn’t take much more!”
Then he too began to explain various business matters and, there and then in the passage, handed over all the letters he had in his hand, statements of account or advice of drafts. He could not wait to be rid of them.
With those letters in one hand and his hat in the other, Alfonso went to pay his respects to Cellani.
He found him opening the post. With one snip of his scissors he opened an envelope, took out the contents which he threw on one side, and before putting down the envelope gave it a careful glance against the light. He too went on working while talking to Alfonso; but when the latter, with his usual shyness, murmured his thanks,reminding him that he owed his holiday to him, Cellani got up and went to shake Alfonso’s hand with a friendly smile on his pale face. His long sportsman’s body, elegant but weak, seemed borne along rather than self-propelled, so little energy was there in his movements and so exactly and unhesitatingly did he pass through the narrow space between desk and chair.
“You’re looking fine,” he said to Alfonso, glancing almost enviously at the latter’s sun-tanned face. He was in a hurry to return to his own place. Shaking Alfonso’s hand again he said laughing: “Now …” and made a show of writing very fast with the pen in his left hand.
Alfonso found that Alchieri had diminished his pending tray, and, sitting in his place, he decided under the encouragement of Cellani’s welcome to get it all done and allow no more to accumulate . Alchieri, coming from a barracks, had introduced in only a fortnight a system of work far preferable to Alfonso’s, who found it easy, at least at first, to keep to this. His improved serenity, reinforced by the open air, made him capable of
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