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.“Of course.”Did he dare push his luck? “The full recovery.”“Of course.We can start it tonight.”“No.Give me four more nights.Then we’ll start it.From now till then, I’ll come by morning and night for a meal.”“The sooner we start, the better.”“Good night.”Don Giovanni walked back along the path, then off into the shrubbery.He set down the bowl.Dog and man ate side by side.They slept unmoving, heavy as trees.The next day, Don Giovanni carried the bowl back to the house.The girl answered this time.She poured warm goat milk into the bowl and put a stale loaf of bread on the ground beside it.Don Giovanni carried the food to the shrubs where they’d slept the night before.He broke the bread into bits and dropped them into the milk.He and Cani ate side by side again.They slept on and off all day.In the early evening they brought the bowl back for more stew.That night it rained.In the morning, Don Giovanni and Cani lay in mud.The sun hardened it on their backs.It cracked off as they walked to the house.The girl opened the door.She came outside with a large sack slung over her shoulder.“Follow me.”“What about food?” Don Giovanni held the empty bowl.“Put it down,” she said in annoyance.“Follow me.” The girl led them along a path and soon they came into a real town.How foolish Don Giovanni had been, to think those first few houses were the whole of it.Sciacca had not only a mosque, but a Christian church.And lots of homes.The market square teemed with vendors calling out their wares and produce, and shoppers haggling over prices.A man fried large pieces of dough in sizzling oil over an open fire.Don Giovanni stopped at a wall and secretively pulled out his purse.When he had a coin in his hand, he slipped the purse away again and bought two pieces of the dough.He and Cani ate in large sloppy bites.Now he realized the girl was gone.She’d disappeared into the crowd.“Find her, Cani,” he said in the dog’s ear.“We want the full recovery.We need it.”Cani wove through the tables of cheeses and meats and cloths and yarns, with Don Giovanni close behind.There she was, waiting.“Hurry,” she said.They walked through town fast.Don Giovanni struggled to keep up.He couldn’t risk losing sight of her again.Her and that heavy bag.A full recovery.They went up into the foothills of a mountain.“Where are we going?”“Monte Cronio, of course.”“What’s there?”“The cure.” The girl frowned.“That’s what you came for, after all.”“But not yet.Two more nights.Just two more nights.”“Two days from now I have to travel to Agrigento.My cousin’s getting married the day after—the seventh of February.I can’t wait.If you want my help, you have to start today.”“No.” Don Giovanni stopped.“If three days from now is the seventh of February, today is the fourth of February.But that’s wrong.”“No, it’s not.”“Today is the second of February.”“You’ve lost track of time,” said the girl.“It’s easy to do, in your condition.I’ve seen illnesses like yours play tricks on people’s minds all the time.”Don Giovanni had been careful.He’d counted off the days.He couldn’t be wrong.“I’m not ill.”“Yes, you are.You came for the cure.”“I’m just dirty.”“Call it whatever you want.Just hurry.”Up ahead the mouths of caves opened wide, as though calling.And were they calling? Don Giovanni could have sworn he heard voices.He did.Happy voices.He followed the girl into the first cave.Naked men leaned over fissures in the rock, where steam came through.They talked to one another about how strong they were getting, how well the vapors from the hot springs underground were healing their insides, how soon they’d be back home and running things again.Somewhere in Don Giovanni’s distant memories was a whisper about this place.Monte Cronio.Yes, it was well known for its therapeutic power.Had those old memories been in charge all along? Had they brought him here?“Take off your trousers.”“No.”The girl made a tsk.“I’ve got the towels in here.” She dropped the sack onto the ground in front of her feet.“If you want me to soak them in the healing waters and rub you down, I have to start now.You’re a bigger job than most.”“No.Two days from now.”“I already told you.I can’t wait two days.”“Then go away.”“You won’t get your money back.”“I don’t want my money back.”“I have bread in here, too.With fried onions and mushrooms on top.”“It’s not mushroom season.”“My mother dries them in the fall.We have them whenever we want.They’re the big yellow kind.”His favorites.Zizu often gathered them for him.The girl opened the sack.She took out a cloth bundle and untied the knot.Onion and mushroom scents joined the hot vapors.No.Don Giovanni smiled.His favorite mushrooms.Ha! “What a pathetic thing is evil.” He walked out of the cave and climbed up into the mountain.Behind him came the smallest, highest note.A keening voice.As he and Cani climbed, the voice grew into a wail, a shriek.The wind joined it.Hail fell through the sunny sky, smacking him hard, knocking him senseless.It was early dawn when he woke.A freak snowstorm had come to Monte Cronio.Who said the devil was hot?Don Giovanni clutched Cani and waited.“Mimi,” he said.“Mimi, Mimi, Mimi.Mimi awaits if I can make it just one more day, one more night.” He closed his eyes and spoke to the yellow haze of hope inside his heart.“I will be everything good I can be for this Mimi.I’ll never make her sorry she married me.I will cherish her.For the rest of my life.I promise.If I only get the chance.”YellowON THE MORNING OF 4 FEBRUARY 1173, DON GIOVANNI WOKE more frozen than not.He and Cani slip-slid down the mountain to the cave.He leaned over fissures in the rock and let the hot steam warm him.It was over.He could barely understand yet what it might mean.Over.Done.Won.He took off his trousers and rolled the purse up small in his fist.He whispered to it, then held up a gold coin.“Who will shave my hair off?” he called out.Sciacca turned out to be a good town for a full recovery.By the end of February, Don Giovanni had healed everywhere.His scalp was free of pus.His skin was thick and olive again.His hair had grown back to a short curl.He looked young—not boyish, there was a definite solemnity to his eye—but young again.Healthy.He wore the best clothes Sciacca could offer, which weren’t bad at all.He rode the best horse Sciacca could offer, almost directly north, through the hills and mountains, all the way to Palermo.Cani ran along beside.For that reason he had to go more slowly than if he’d been alone.By the evening of 2 March, he and Cani arrived at the villa.Ribi answered the door.He looked from Cani to Don Giovanni, back and forth, back and forth.“It’s you!” shouted Zizu from an upstairs window.He waved wildly.“It’s Don Giovanni!”“Sire?” said Ribi.Don Giovanni grinned.The men hugged.Zizu came running out and jumped into Don Giovanni’s arms, closing his legs and arms around the man’s chest.Every servant in the villa lined up to shake the master’s hand.But Don Giovanni hugged them all.Ribi had been true to his word [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]