by Lina Simoni
Caterina turned to Lavinia. “Should I talk to my father?”
Lavinia shook her head, horrified. “Not unless you want your friend banned from this town,” she said, half seriously, half jokingly.
Caterina looked at Ivano with eyes full of sadness.
“Don’t be sad,” Ivano told her, caressing her hair. “I’ll find the way for us to be together.”
He leaned towards her and slowly kissed her on the lips. She kissed him back. It was their first kiss, and after it Caterina felt more in love with Ivano than ever before. When she was not with him all she could do was relive in her mind every moment they had spent together and dream of the next time she’d see him and ease into in his arms. She often imagined how wonderful it would be if her love for Ivano could be made public and be accepted by their respective social milieus. They would go to the theater together, to dinners and balls, hand in hand and proud of each other. She would go to the hilltop with him, to his secret place, and she would watch him compose new music and sing it for her with his beautiful, warm voice.
“You know that this will have to end sooner or later,” Lavinia would tell her on occasion. “He’s from a different world. My world, not yours.”
“Don’t say that!” a terrified Caterina would exclaim. “Different worlds don’t need to be apart forever.”
“They do, my child,” Lavinia would nod. “It’s always been that way.”
“No,” Caterina would say. “The only difference between Ivano and me is that he needs to work to survive and I don’t. We were both born in the same town. Why would there be a problem?”
“You are so naïve, darling,” Lavinia would comment with a sad smile. “So innocent. I’ll hate it when you and Ivano will have to say goodbye.”
While Ivano and Caterina grew their love in the oven room, Lavinia answered Matilda’s and Giuseppe’s questions about where she and Caterina would go on their next outing or where they had been the day before with clever lies, inventing visits to new stores, parks, and museums, always adding to the list, always smiling. No one at the palazzina ever suspected that those reports were the fruit of Lavinia’s vivid imagination.
Despite their precautions, it wasn’t long before Caterina and Ivano became the victims of curious eyes. Over the course of several weeks, Tony, the hired help, an observant and greedy fellow, had noticed how Ivano left the bakery every other day always at the same time and returned one and a half hours later. Intrigued, he took advantage of a particularly slow day and followed Ivano outside, keeping a distance so Ivano wouldn’t notice him. It was with surprise that he saw Ivano turn the alley corner and enter the oven room. Why would Ivano leave the bakery and reenter it from the back door? Puzzled, Tony retraced his steps, returning to his post behind the counter. He sold bread to a woman, focaccia to a couple of kids. Alone again, he set his ear against the oven-room door. He heard muffled voices, then the sound of strings being plucked, and then voices once more. In a matter of moments he realized that Ivano’s companions, whoever they were, were female. He had no reason to enter the oven room as baking was not part of his duties. He also knew it would be inappropriate and counter effective for him to barge in with an excuse. So he waited until it was almost time for Ivano to return to the store front. Then he left the bakery again and again turned the alley corner, hiding behind one the garbage boxes. A few minutes went by before the oven-room door opened and a young lady came out, followed closely by an older woman. Perhaps an aunt, Tony thought, or a chaperone. Behind them, Ivano stepped into the alley as well, where he caressed the girl’s hair and kissed her on the forehead.
Tony did not return to the bakery that day, leaving Ivano perplexed as to the clerk’s absence. Instead, he followed Caterina and Lavinia home, and it was so that he found out that the young woman who spent time with Ivano in the oven room was none other than the daughter of Giuseppe Berilli, the famous lawyer. Considering the type of family the Berillis were, Tony was certain that Mister Berilli and his wife weren’t aware of their daughter’s escapades. Several days went by during which Tony kept wondering how he could profit from what he knew. Meanwhile, at the bakery Ivano and Corrado looked for a new employee, commenting occasionally on Tony’s mysterious disappearance, wondering if something might have happened to him and whether they should call the police. They did, in the end, file a police report, and, unknown to Tony, he became the object of an investigation.
One morning Tony made a decision. At 11 AM he entered the offices of Berilli e Figli and told the clerk he wanted to confer with Giuseppe Berilli in private. A half hour later, a second clerk approached Tony.
“Mister Berilli doesn’t know you and hence will not receive you,” he said. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Tell Mister Berilli,” Tony replied firmly, “that the matter I wish to discuss with him concerns his family, and I won’t leave this office until he meets with me. He should listen to what I have to say before it’s too late.”
At that, the clerk left to return ten minutes later. “This way,” he said, showing Tony to a conference room.
Giuseppe was there alone, seated at the head of a rectangular oak table. “Who are you?” he boomed. “And what do you have to say about my family?”
“Who I am is irrelevant,” a belligerent Tony said. “I came here to talk about your daughter.”
Giuseppe squinted his eyes. “My daughter? What about her?”
“So you know, sir,” Tony said stealthily, “in recent weeks she has been engaging in activities you and any father would find objectionable. I can take you to the site where these activities take place,” he added, “and you’ll be able to see with your own eyes.”
“How dare you!” Giuseppe shouted. “I know my daughter! She would never engage in something I wouldn’t approve of! Get out of here before I have you arrested!”
Calmly, Tony said, “As you wish, sir. But I’ll be back here tomorrow at the same time.” He cocked his head. “In case you should change your mind.”
Giuseppe spent a restless day, incapable of concentrating and bringing any matter to conclusion, followed by a sleepless night. Tony’s face glowed at him from the dark and his words rang ominously in his ear. As he tossed and turned, he kept wondering what those words might mean. Had Caterina truly done something outrageous? Something that could tarnish his reputation? In the morning, at the office, he kept busy with meetings and trial preparation, but all along couldn’t stop worrying. Would the young man return? Should he not return, would he be able to set his doubts aside and pretend their conversation never took place? He broke a pencil in two and threw the pieces against the wall. “Damn it,” he grumbled. “Never a moment of peace.”
As it turned out, Giuseppe’s anxiety was misplaced because Tony arrived at the office at 11 AM sharp, as he had promised. Contrary to the previous day, he was admitted to the conference room at once, where Giuseppe spoke without preambles. “Take me there.”
“Two hundred liras, sir,” Tony said coldly. “Right now.”
“Two hundred liras?” Giuseppe screamed. “Are you crazy?”
“No, sir. But if you think I’m crazy, I’ll leave. Good-bye.”
“Snake!” Giuseppe hissed. “One hundred liras,” he shouted as Tony was about to leave the room, “and nothing more.”
Tony accepted the offer without dispute. Giuseppe opened his safe and handed him the money in cash. Tony took the money, hid it in his shirt, and said, “Meet me on Piazza della Nunziata this afternoon at four-thirty. In front of the church.”
A fresh breeze was blowing from the north when, later that day, Giuseppe drove the family car down the hill, parking it in front of the Nunziata church. He stepped out and looked right and left several times. Then he paced the sidewalk, feeling uneasy and out of place. When ten minutes had passed, he began questioning his wisdom. He had handed a stranger a large sum of money and taken his word that he would meet him in front of that church. Perhaps the blackmailer had nothing to sh
ow and was now many kilometers away. What an imbecile he was. He was about to reenter his car and head home when a figure approached him from behind and whispered, “Follow me.”
Looking furtively about, Giuseppe followed Tony as he crossed the street amidst an intense traffic of cars, pedestrians, and horses. When Tony reached the opposite sidewalk, he looked back and waved. “Come on!”
Caught in the street traffic, Giuseppe had a moment of repentance. What was he doing, letting a blackmailer drag him all over town? He should turn around, go home, and forget about the money and the troubling story the young man and told him about his daughter. The thought that Caterina might be in a situation that required his paternal intervention overcame, however, his hesitation. He walked up to Tony and said, “Where’s my daughter?”
“This way,” Tony said. He headed towards the east end of the piazza, shortly turning into the blind alley that led to the bakery back door.
“Why are we here?” Giuseppe blurted. “What is this place?”
Without replying, Tony pushed the oven-room door open. As Giuseppe stood in the doorway, the greedy clerk ran away and was never seen again in that part of town. Three months later the police closed their investigation, labeling his disappearance an unsolved case.
At the moment the alley door opened, Lavinia, Ivano, and Caterina were seated at the table, engaged in a conversation. Ivano was holding Caterina’s hand. He sprung to his feet as he realized that someone was standing on the threshold, looking inside. Caterina clutched his arm. She murmured, “My father …”
Ivano froze as Lavinia’s eyes showed the depth of her fright.
“What’s going on here?” Giuseppe shouted, stepping in. He stared at Caterina, Lavinia, and the handsome young stranger standing next to his daughter. It took him one split second to figure out what the answer to his question was. A rush of rage sent his heart racing. He lunged towards Ivano, punching him in the stomach. “I’ll kill you, scum of the scum! I’ll kill you!”
Speechless, Ivano defended himself by grabbing the lawyer’s arms and pushing him away.
“Who are you?” Giuseppe screamed as he continued to throw punches. “And what is this dingy place?”
“This is my bakery,” Ivano said, fending off the punches, “and it’s not a dingy place!”
Suddenly the door that connected the oven room to the store swung open and Corrado, who knew nothing of his son’s secret encounters with Caterina, unexpectedly came in. He had returned to the bakery that afternoon looking for the hat he had left behind.
“What’s going on here?” he said. Then, seeing his own son caught in a fistfight with a stranger, he took a broom from a corner and delivered a sharp blow on the head of the intruder.
“Stop!” Caterina exclaimed. “He’s my father!”
The fight stopped and everyone was silent for a moment.
Giuseppe broke the silence. “You’re dead!” he growled at Ivano.
“Just a minute,” Corrado intervened. He looked at Giuseppe with angry eyes. “Who are you? And why are you threatening my son?”
Giuseppe lifted his chin. “I am Giuseppe Berilli, the lawyer. Your son, or whoever this bandit is, lured my daughter into this room and kept her here. That’s why I’m threatening him. Isn’t it obvious?”
Caterina spoke softly. “Ivano didn’t lure me here. I came of my own will. I love him.”
Giuseppe stared at his daughter with mad eyes. “You what?”
“You heard her, Mister Lawyer,” Corrado snapped. “My son is not a bandit. And he doesn’t lure women into anything unless the women themselves agree in the first place.”
“I love him,” Caterina repeated.
“Silence!” Giuseppe barked. With a swift move, he clasped Caterina’s arm and pulled her close. “Shame on you!” he hissed. “You’ve disgraced our family and our name!”
Ivano stepped forward. “I love your daughter,” he said, “and I intend to marry her.”
“Stay away from her,” Giuseppe screamed, “or I’ll have you jailed! And you,” he continued, glaring at Lavinia, “collect your personal belongings and leave our home at once. You are fired!”
For a long moment, he stared at the people standing in front of him, lips trembling. Then, red-faced, he marched out of the oven room, dragging Caterina along.
They exchanged no words on the way home, as Giuseppe drove uphill at maximum speed and with no regard for other vehicles on the road. At the palazzina, he pushed Caterina up the stairs and into her bedroom, closing the door once they were both inside. “Are you a virgin?” he asked.
Caterina looked at him without talking. She stood still in the middle of her room, as if paralyzed.
“Are you a virgin, I said!”
She didn’t speak.
“Do you think you can lie to me?” he shouted. “I can call Doctor Sciaccaluga and have him visit you and find out! Are you a virgin, yes or no?”
Caterina looked the other way.
“We’ll continue this later,” Giuseppe grunted. With an angry frown, he walked from the bedroom, locking the door behind him and dropping the key in his pocket. Next, he stormed into the servant quarters on the third floor, something he had never done before. In the hallway, two startled chambermaids gasped and moved aside as he rushed past them and barged into the bedroom that for over fifty years had been assigned to the butler on duty.
“Guglielmo,” he ordered, “tell everyone on the staff that Caterina is sick, is to remain in her room, and cannot receive visits. And find my wife, wherever she is.”
Without giving Guglielmo time to speak, he rushed back downstairs, to the reading room, where he poured himself a brandy. When, ten minutes later, Matilda arrived, Giuseppe was on his third glass of liquor and felt as if he had drunk plain water.
“You are going to need brandy, too,” he said, then explained to Matilda in great detail what had happened on Piazza della Nunziata.
When Matilda recovered from the shocking news, she and Giuseppe went back to their daughter’s room, where they conducted a thorough interrogation. Through sobs and tears and scanty words, Caterina confessed to having seen Ivano for the past two and a half months, with Lavinia covering up their secret encounters with tales of strolls in the carrugi and visits to stores the two of them had never even approached.
“I can’t believe Lavinia betrayed us,” Matilda told Giuseppe later that evening at the dinner table. “What a dreadful woman.”
“Yes, dreadful.” Giuseppe concurred. “As dreadful as that baker Caterina has been seeing. I wonder how she even met him.”
How Caterina Berilli, the daughter of an illustrious lawyer, and Ivano Bo, the son of a humble baker, had become acquainted and fallen in love remained a mystery Giuseppe and Matilda would never able to solve. The only one who knew, Lavinia, had left the palazzina in a hurry, before anyone could question her about Caterina’s secret.
“I asked Caterina if she’s a virgin,” Giuseppe told Matilda with a smirk on his face as he tasted the dessert, “and she didn’t reply.”
Matilda’s voice trembled. “You’re not thinking … She wouldn’t. I know Caterina.”
“Why are you so surprised? You did it when you were her age.”
Matilda stood up in a rage. “I did not!”
Giuseppe continued with a calm voice. “We need to find out if she’s still a virgin. I will ask Doctor Sciaccaluga to visit her first thing in the morning.”
“You can’t be serious,” Matilda murmured.
“Watch me,” Giuseppe said, standing up and walking away. As he headed for the reading room, he decided there was no reason for the examination to wait.
At that point in time the friendship between Giuseppe and Damiano Sciaccaluga had not yet flourished, and the relationship between the two men was strictly a professional one. Damiano was hence greatly surprised when Guglielmo picked him up in the Berillis’ automobile shortly past nine in the evening and when upon his arrival at the palazzina fifteen minutes lat
er Giuseppe informed him that no one was sick.
“I asked you here tonight,” Giuseppe explained, “because I want you to find out if my daughter is still a virgin.”
Damiano’s surprise turned to bewilderment. He had known Caterina since she had been a child and continued to think of her as a child even though she was now close to turning eighteen.
“Do you have reasons to suspect that Caterina has been engaging in sexual activities?” he asked, not believing he had just uttered those words.
“I do,” Giuseppe stated. “Please follow me upstairs. Needless to say, you will keep the outcome of this visit confidential, as if the visit never took place.”
More and more puzzled, Damiano followed Giuseppe to Caterina’s bedroom. Matilda was already there. She and Caterina were seated on the bed next to each other, holding hands. The moment Matilda saw the two men entering the bedroom, she stood up and spoke with determination. “You will not embarrass our daughter with this silly exam,” she stated.
“I will,” Giuseppe said coldly. “And you’d better get out of the way.”
“No,” Matilda said firmly.
Damiano began to feel uneasy. He turned to Giuseppe. “Perhaps you and your wife should discuss this privately. I’ll wait outside.”
“There’s nothing to wait for,” Giuseppe said. “Matilda, leave the bedside or I will make you.”
Silent all along, Caterina grabbed Matilda’s arm.
Matilda changed tactics. “Have you any idea how hard this is going to be on our daughter? After what she’s been through today?”
“No, I don’t,” Giuseppe said sarcastically. “You, on the other hand, must be an expert on this matter. Right?”
Matilda’s cheeks turned redder than fire. “How dare you make such comments in the presence of Caterina and a perfect stranger?” Her voice broke up, and Caterina began to sob uncontrollably.
“Go ahead,” Giuseppe told Damiano. Hesitantly, Damiano approached the bed.
