He was aglow with animal spirits, and
his conversation naively brilliant and of uncommon import. Understanding
at a glance that he belonged to a type which is rather rare in Calabria,
that he was a classic (of a kind), I made every effort to be pleasant to
him; and I must have succeeded, for he was soon relating anecdotes which
would have been neither instructive, nor even intelligible, to the
jeune fille; all this, with angelic serenity of conscience.
This radiantly-vicious child was the embodiment of the joy of life, the
perfect immoralist. There was no cynicism in his nature, no cruelty, no
obliquity, no remorse; nothing but sunshine with a few clouds sailing
across the fathomless blue spaces - the sky of Hellas. Nihil humani
alienum; and as I listened to those glad tales, I marvelled at the
many-tinted experiences that could be crammed into seventeen short
years; what a document the ad-verttures of such a frolicsome demon would
be, what a feast for the initiated, could some one be induced to make
them known! But such things are hopelessly out of the question. And that
is why so many of our wise people go into their graves without ever
learning what happens in this world.
Among minor matters, he mentioned that he had already been three times
to prison for "certain little affairs of blood," while defending
"certain friends." Was it not dull, I asked, in prison? "The time passes
pleasantly anywhere," he answered, "when you are young. I always make
friends, even in prison." I could well believe it. His affinities were
with the blithe crew of the Liber Stratonis. He had a roving eye and the
mouth of Antinous; and his morals were those of a condescending tiger-cub.
Arriving at Delianuova after sunset, he conceived the project of
accompanying me next morning up Montalto. I hesitated. In the first
place, I was going not only up that mountain, but to Bova on the distant
Ionian littoral - -
"For my part," he broke in, "ho pigliato confidenza. If you mistrust
me, here! take my knife," an ugly blade, pointed, and two inches in
excess of the police regulation length. This act of quasi-filial
submission touched me; but it was not his knife I feared so much as that
of "certain friends." Some little difference of opinion might arise,
some question of money or other argument, and lo! the friends would be
at hand (they always are), and one more stranger might disappear among
the clefts and gullies of Montalto. Aspromonte, the roughest corner of
Italy, is no place for misunderstandings; the knife decides promptly who
is right or wrong, and only two weeks ago I was warned not to cross the
district without a carbineer on either side of me.
But to have clothed my thoughts in words during his gracious mood would
have been supremely unethical.
