Read Night Journey for Free Online Page B

and specially careful with mine.

Chapter Five
    The Fondamenta Vittoria is, as its name suggests, a row of houses overlooking a canal. Its view must have been very pleasant on a sunny morning, but to-day there was heavy rain. I had come by gondola to save getting wet and the gondolier, having demanded four times the proper fare and received only double, made a play of complaint and annoyance. The servant who came to the door let me in and closed it again to shut out his guttural tenor.
    Yes, Captain Bonini was in. What name? Would I be pleased to wait? She showed me into a handsome hall with a baroque marble staircase worthy of Longhens. I stood admiring this, and then turned nervously at the sound of slippered foorsteps, to see approaching a man almost as handsome in his own way as the staircase. The noble beauty of the young Italian is sometimes enough to take the breath away. This man was ten years beyond his best and was now putting on weight; in another five the flowering would be over; but he still impressed, with his glossy hair, pale olive skin, magnificent eyes. Of course none of this way any guide to his character: the Borgias probably looked the same.
    â€œCaptain Bonini?”
    â€œYou asked for me.”
    â€œI was admiring the carving of the balustrade, sir. It is distinguished.”
    â€œEarly eighteenth century. After the style of the Trinita dei Monti. What do you want?”
    So it seemed that he wished to hear my prepared story. “I approached you with diffidence, sir. We are related through my cousin Edda, who married your brother-in-law. I have lately come from Portugal where I was in the silk trade. I was to have joined the forces but yesterday I was rejected on medical grounds. It occurred to me that in your capacity on the naval staff you might—might hear of some clerical work that I could do.”
    He felt in the pocket of his brightly stripped silk dressing-gown and fitted a cigarette into a long white holder. He did not offer me one. I wondered why the interview was in this public place and it occurred to me that he wanted to try to over himself in case of trouble. If he could bring witnesses to his first meeting …
    â€œ What relation are you to Edda? She has never mentioned you.”
    â€œHer mother and mine are sisters. Her mother married a Rosselino and mine a Catania. My family still lives in the Via Montevecchio, Turin, where I was born.”
    He lit the cigarette. “We have no room for the unfit in Italy. You had better have stayed in Portugal.”
    So he was to have his little unpleasantness.
    â€œI wanted to help,” I said humbly.
    â€œNo doubt, no doubt.… What can you do?”
    â€œI can type and write shorthand. I can speak German. Also a little French. I have had some training in office methods.”
    â€œSo have many others. I’ll keep your case in mind, Catania, but I can promise very little. Where are you staying?”
    â€œAt the Hotel San Moisé.”
    â€œVery well. You will excuse me. I am busy now; I have important matters to attend to.” He walked to the bell and pushed it. Throughout the interview he had hardly looked at me; his manner was detached, cold; if It had been snore personally involved it would have been hostile.
    The maid appeared. “ Show this gentleman out.”
    â€œThank you,” I said, “I shall hope to hear from you.”
    â€œDon’t rely on it. Take something else if you can get It.”
    The interview was at an end. It did not seem quite to have turned out as arranged, but I was in his hands.
    As I got to the door he said: “Stay,” and came padding across with his vigorous, sightly flat-footed walk. “Did you say you could speak German?”
    â€œYes, sir, I know it well.”
    â€œTo be able to interpret for me if necessary?”
    â€œOh, yes, certainly.”
    â€œOh, then I might be able to offer you a temporary post. I wonder. My own