The Little World of Don Camillo by Giovanni Guareschi

Author:Giovanni Guareschi
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780140017977
Publisher: Penguin Books
Published: 1962-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

Nocturne with Bells

For some time Don Camillo had felt that he was being watched. On turning round suddenly when he was walking along the street or in the fields, he saw no one, but was convinced that if he had looked behind a hedge or in the bushes he would have found a pair of eyes and everything that goes with them. When he left the rectory on a couple of evenings, he not only heard a sound from behind the door but he caught a glimpse of a shadow.

“Never mind,” Christ advised him. “Eyes never did anyone any harm.”

“But it would be nice to know whether those two eyes are going about alone or accompanied by a third, for instance one of 9 caliber,” sighed Don Camillo. “That is a detail not without its own importance.”

“Nothing can defeat a good conscience, Don Camillo.”

“I know, Lord,” sighed Don Camillo once more, “but the trouble is that people don’t usually fire at a conscience but between the shoulders.”

However, Don Camillo did nothing about the matter and a little time elapsed, and then late one evening when he was sitting alone in the rectory reading, he “felt” the eyes upon him. There were three of them, and raising his head slowly, he saw first of all the black eye of a revolver and then those of Biondo.

“Do I lift my hands?” inquired Don Camillo quietly.

“I don’t want to do you any harm,” replied Biondo, thrusting the revolver into his jacket pocket. “I was afraid you might be scared when I came in unexpectedly, and might start shouting.”

“I see,” replied Don Camillo. “And did it never strike you that by simply knocking at the door you could have avoided all this trouble?”

Biondo didn’t reply; he went and leaned over the window sill. Then he turned round suddenly and sat down beside Don Camillo’s little table. His hair was ruffled, his eyes deeply circled, and his forehead was damp with sweat.

“Don Camillo,” he muttered from behind clenched teeth, “that fellow at the house near the dike; it was me that did him in.”

Don Camillo lighted a cigar. “The house near the dike?” he said quietly. “Well; that’s an old story, it was a political affair and came within the terms of the amnesty. What are you worrying about? You’re all right under the law.”

Biondo shrugged his shoulders. “To hell with the amnesty,” he said furiously. “Every night when I put my light out I can feel him near my bed, and I can’t understand what it means.”

Don Camillo puffed a cloud of blue smoke into the air. “Nothing at all, Biondo,” he replied with a smile. “Listen, go to sleep with the light on.”

Biondo sprang to his feet. “You can jeer at that fool Peppone,” he shouted, “but you can’t do it at me!”

Don Camillo shook his head. “First, Peppone is not a fool, and second, where you are concerned there is nothing that I can do for you.”

“If I must buy candles or make an offering to the Church, I’ll pay,” shouted Biondo, “but you’ve got to absolve me.

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