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.They think it's enough to talk.I'd like to see them in twenty years.The old lady got where she wanted to go."We went into another shop.We didn't talk baroque.I told Morelli that it was better to see a palace, a house, and find how things should look in their natural setting."Let's go to Donna Clementina's," he said."That evening there were too many people, but the porcelains alone are worth."16We arrived just as some women were leaving; they stared at me.Twenty years ago my route never went through that quarter of Turin.We found Mariella and her mother, who had just had tea; the grandmother—unfortunately—was napping, she was preparing for the evening, when a certain Rumanian violinist was coming to play and she wanted to be present.A few friends were expected, would we care to join them?Mariella looked at me reproachfully and while we were going into the room with the porcelains she scolded me for not having told her in time about the trip to Saint Vincent."Come this evening," she said."Rosetta and the whole crowd will be here.""I haven't been seeing anybody.What are you all doing?""I can't tell," she said mysteriously."You'll have to see to find out."I pulled Morelli's coattail just in time to keep him from telling those gossips the story of my fitting rooms.Mariella's mother lit the showcase lights and told us something about each piece.She spoke of her great grandfather, of weddings, of aunts, of the French Revolution.Morelli told us the names of some of the pink, bewigged women in the miniatures hanging on the walls.There was a certain Giudetta—also in the family—who had lain under a tree in the royal gardens and the king of that epoch let cherries fall through the branches into her mouth.I looked closely and tried to understand these things, what they were made of and the artist's secret—the way you do with a dress—but I didn't get very far.The elegance of the figurines and the little painted portraits was made out of air, and without the names, conversation, and family stories that went with them, they weren't enough to create an atmosphere.I really had to rely on Febo.So that evening we returned to listen to the violinist.I saw the fierce old lady again, with her shawl and her ribbon around the neck; I saw the circle of solemn old gentlemen, the lamps, the rug.Youth was less in evidence this time; they sat uncomfortably on the upholstered chairs.No Loris.Rosetta and Momina smiled at me from among the women.The violinist played well, as violinists usually do on these occasions.He was a fat little man with white hair who kissed all the women's hands; it wasn't clear if he were being paid or had come as a friend.He laughed with his tongue in his cheek and looked at our legs.A lymphatic lady wearing glasses and a rose at her shoulder accompanied him on the piano.The women shouted: "Bravo!" All in all, I was bored.Morelli clapped enthusiastically.When tea came, I looked for Rosetta and Momina."As soon as the old lady gets up," we said, "we'll go too."Mariella cornered me."I'm coming too," she said."Wait for me."She ended by dragging along everyone, including the violinist.Outside the large entrance door the bespectacled lady started to shout."The maestro wants to treat us." Everybody was speaking French.In the car I found myself next to Rosetta.I said in the dark and confusion: "It's turned out badly.Ivrea was better.""It's not morning yet," Momina said, getting in.For the violinist, who was with the women and Morelli in Mariella's big car, treating us meant circling around the center of town, stopping in front of cafes, putting his head out, arguing, and then giving the signal to start off again.After three or four of these games, Momina said: "Go to the devil," and set off on her own."Where are we going?""To your hotel," she said.We entered the salon gaily and noisily.Several people raised their heads."Doesn't it give you the shivers?" she said to Rosetta, who walked between us with clenched fists.Rosetta smiled thinly.She said: "There's a possibility that nobody paid my bill.They might throw us out.""You never came back?" Momina asked.Rosetta shrugged."Where shall we sit?" I asked.The waiter brought us three cognacs.Behind the bar, Luis winked at me."Let's hope Mariella doesn't find us," I said."I'm afraid the Rumanian won't do much treating.""In all those people, somebody will offer to pay," Rosetta said [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]