Seven days earlier, Friday, October 23
It’s cold in the big room, freezing cold. It’s still early, but Tettè has been awake for a while now, curled up under the burlap sacks that he has for covers.
The rain patters against the shutters, still closed, and the dampness in the air ought to depress him; instead Tettè smiles happily. It’s the most wonderful day of the week. The day his angel comes.
Tettè daydreams and waits. When Nanni opens the door and yells out the morning wake-up call, he leaps out of bed and starts folding his makeshift covers, pulling his shirt and britches from under the pallet. He shivers as he puts them on. They’re icy cold against his bare skin.
After the sexton has made sure that even the most stubborn ones are out from under the covers, he approaches Tettè and gestures for him to come with him into the other room. Tettè follows him, joyfully. The other boys watch them go, and the twins exchange a knowing glance.
In the other room, it’s even colder, because no one sleeps in here; it’s a little room that the sexton always keeps locked. There’s a table with two chairs and a small, rusty metal cabinet, also locked. The sexton pulls the key out of his pocket and opens it. Tettè can’t wipe the smile off his face, and Nanni shoots him an ugly look.
The man pulls a pair of short pants and a little sailor’s blouse out of the wardrobe, a cap and a pair of black leather shoes. The clothes are spotless and neatly ironed. Nanni sets them down on a table like a series of relics and then sits down to watch Tettè change.
Tettè doesn’t like the way the sexton looks at him; he has one of those gazes in which you can’t read a thing. His eyes are always red; Tettè knows, as do all the other boys, that the man gets drunk every night in a tavern down by the harbor. They’ve seen him snoring openmouthed in the gutter on summer nights many times.
You’re getting to be a big boy, says Nanni as he watches him. Such a big boy. Tettè gets dressed as quick as he can, putting the clean clothing on hastily, and in his haste he loses his balance and almost rips the short pants. The man lunges forward and slaps him hard.
Stupid cacaglio, he says to him: those pants are worth a lot more than you are. You have no idea what Don Antonio would do to you if you tore them. Tettè’s ear is ringing from the slap the man gave him, but he chokes back his tears. All he wants to do is get dressed and leave the room.
Nanni goes on talking: remember that I know your secret, cacaglio. The secret that only you and I know. Just remember that I can always tell that secret, and if I do you’ll lose everything, you fool of a cacaglio. Which means you also won’t get to wear your new clothes and drive in the car with the signora anymore.
Tettè wants to answer him: he longs to say, no, I don’t want the secret, you can have it! All I want is to be with my angel, nothing more. Why can’t you leave me alone?
That’s what he wants to say; but the serpent immediately comes up from his belly and coils around his throat, choking off his breath. And, as always, it keeps him from speaking.
The man laughs, and he opens his mouth wide, showing his rotten teeth. A foul stench of wine wafts over Tettè. Tettè shuts his eyes and thinks: it doesn’t matter. In a couple of minutes, I’ll be out of this room. In a couple of minutes, I’ll be out on the street, holding Don Antonio’s hand, in my new clothes, waiting for the car to come and pick me up.
I’ll be with my angel.