Beati Paoli

by Luigi Natoli

part one, chapter 8

The newcomer was a "rational," his name was Don Girolamo Ammirata.

He was tall, with a dry and brown face under the wide curly wig, the wounded jaws, the black and live eyes, but in the attitude, in the gesture, in the voice he had a little humble or submissive, which made him say: "He must be a good man."

Although according to the use he girded sword, from the cloth and the simplicity of the dress was recognized his modest condition that conformed to the expression of the face: the young man, on the other hand, offered a singular contrast. On his face he still had something childish, in the development of the body he seemed rather a twenty-year-old: the features, examined individually, had a delicateness and a feminine sweetness, but as a whole they assumed an expression of highness, almost proud and disdainful. And it contrasted the humility of the garments, with a quick and elegant appearance.

"Bacchus!" exclaimed the painter looking at him with pleasure: "Here is a magnificent model! What do you say, Don Giacomo?"

Giacomo Serpotta peeked at the young man, whose cheeks had leaned a little 'for pleasure, a little 'for shame.

"Yes, you're right," he said.

He laid the guitar, stood up, stretched out his arms, snapped his fingers, then picked up his hat, added: "Well, it's time to leave."

And he went away in fact, greeting Pellegra with a buffet, and the newcomers with a nod of the head.

Don Girolamo Admired satisfied with the impression produced by his nephew, he had sat on the canapÈ, while the Bongiovanni, descended from the steps, and laid the brushes, said: "Go, shall we make this pose?"

He took a helmet and armor out of the corner, and handed them to the young man, "Let's go!" he added, "Put on this stuff."

The young man smiled; helped by Don Girolamo, he put his armor on top of his dress and covered his head with the helmet: the painter gave him a sword of combat from the wide guard, which he girded, then led him over a predellino and looked at him admired.

"Bacchus! Bacchus!"

"Here's Rinaldo!" said the Admired.

The Bongiovanni beat his hands.

"Bravo! here's an idea!... You know you gave me an idea, Don Girolamo? Rinaldo, yes... Rinaldo the hero of Tasso. Here's an idea: Rinaldo and Armida... Rinaldo and Armida."

He turned, looked at Pellegra who, in that moment, left out the jars and the tints looked with admiration at the beautiful young man, and shouted to her: "Come here you; come here... up!"

And he took her by the hand, and brought her over the lord, and pushed a footstool; and he made the daughter sit there in a haste, and a fever, and an enthusiasm, as if he had obsessed with that idea in his imagination at the summoning of a name. Don Girolamo smiled: Pellegra, a little reluctant blushing to the white of his eyes; the young man did not know what to do, but felt clumsy next to that girl who had the lost eyes of a surprise dove.

The painter set his daughter in a pose that had to respond to a concept of seduction and tenderness; then he laid on the predella the young man, trying to make him take the attitude of a lover, with his head almost on the knees of the girl, hands in her hands. But wildness or timidity, he was not so docile.

Vincenzo Bongiovanni was desperate: "What the hell!" shouted, "Are you an educator? He never made love?... fake in love, for a kiss!"

"He is just fifteen years old!..." exclaimed Don Girolamo laughing; "how do you want him to know these things?"

"Fifteen years? Are you serious? I would have given you at least 18!.. Bitch! But fine, from a certain point of view, I'm satisfied... Good. Anyway, it doesn't matter... But you don't have to be shy! A man with armor and sword! Say, "Are you afraid?"

The young man struck him with beautiful brown eyes.

"I say, fear of my daughter?" Father Vincenzo said, "It's not ugly!"

The two young men looked at each other blushing to the point of their hair, and lowered their confused eyes; Don Girolamo intervened scolding the painter in a joking tone.

"What the hell are you talking about? You put them in awe like this."

"It's true. You're right. So, guys, are we clear? You are Rinaldo and Armida. Pellegra knows Tasso; do you know him? Have you read Jerusalem? Good. So Armida enchanted Rinaldo, who is cooked and overcooked with her; imagine that you are in the flower garden, under a bush of roses... Don't move... That's it!..."

He had put them in a passionate attitude, forcing them to look at each other, but Pellegra kept her eyes low, almost ajar and the young man felt wet hers. However, he looked with curiosity and interest at the maiden whom the fatuity of Don Vincenzo Bongiovanni (his brain began to give signs of that nonsense that later had to obscure him) placed so close to him, and found her of his genius. Even Pellegra, stealthily, threw a few glances at that beautiful young fellow of hers, who under those armor seemed one of those knights engraved in old prints: and he found it pleasant to see him before his knees, like a lover.

Like a lover! Here's an idea that perhaps had never crossed her mind, and that now filled her heart with a vague confusion, pleasure and dismay together. Perhaps for the first time, aroused by that fiction, the sexual instinct manifested itself in her and made her blush and tremble before a man.

Don Vincenzo Bongiovanni, however, did not go beyond what he saw on the surface: the emotion and the loss of his daughter, adding an "expression" to the model, increased his satisfaction. He drew feverishly to stare at his "idea," while Don Girolamo Admirata followed him curiously.

"But well! well! for bacchus!" he exclaimed from time to time Don Vincenzo, it was not well known whether to approve himself, or the group, or both.

Then he laid down the cardboard and pencil, stood up, looking from afar, and added: "It's okay, we'll take the seat, when I've carried it on the canvas... A picture like this, not very big... thirds figures... You will see!..."

He rested for a moment, stretching his arms. The two young people had left with that sense of relief of those who saw themselves freed from a great embarrassment. The pleasure they felt, in holding hands, in fact embarrassed them.