A Soldier of the Great War Read Free

necessarily imply lack of courtesy.
    The best seat was next to the man with the newspaper hat and the squid. "Good day," Alessandro said, addressing both man and squid. Sensing mischief, the construction worker looked away sullenly.
    A few minutes later he peered into the bucket and poked the squid with his finger. Then he lifted his eyes and stared at Alessandro as if Alessandro were to blame. "Dead," he said, accusingly.
    Alessandro shrugged his shoulders. "Not enough oxygen in the water."
    "How do you mean?"
    "He needed oxygenated water to breathe."
    "That's crazy. Fish don't breathe. They live under water."
    "But they do, they do. There's oxygen in the water, and they extract it with their gills."
    "So why didn't this one?"
    "He did, until there was no more left, and then he passed away."
    The construction worker preferred to believe otherwise. "The bastards at Civitavecchia sold me a bad squid."
    "As you wish."
    The construction worker thought for a moment. "Would he have lived if I had blown into the water with a straw?"
    "Probably not, since you would have been blowing in more carbon dioxide than oxygen. How far are you going?"
    "Monte Prato."
    "Impossible," Alessandro said, briefly shutting his eyes for emphasis. "It's far too warm. The bucket should have been half full of ice."
    "How do you know these things? I think you're wrong."
    "I know them because they're obvious."
    "Do you have a fish market?"
    "No."
    The construction worker was tremendously suspicious. "If you don't have a fish market, what do you do?"
    "I'm a professor."
    "Of fish?"
    "Of chicken," Alessandro answered.
    "Then you don't know enough to talk."
    "Ah," said Alessandro, holding up his finger. "A squid is not a fish."
    "It isn't?"
    "No."
    "What is it?"
    "It's a type of chicken, a water chicken."
    The construction worker looked abject. Feeling sorry for him, Alessandro said, "I'm not a professor of chicken, and as far as I know, there is no such thing, but the part about the oxygen is true. I regret that your squid died. He had already come all the way from
Civitavecchia, and before that he had been pulled from the sea, which was his home, and he suffered many hours in the hold of a fishing boat as it worked its way back to land in the August heat. The journey was too much."
    The construction worker nodded. "But of what are you a professor?"
    "Aesthetics."
    "What are aesthetics?"
    "The study of beauty."
    "Beauty? What for?"
    "Beauty. Why not."
    "Why do you have to study it?"
    "You don't. It's everywhere, in great profusion, and always will be. Were I to cease studying it, it would not go away, if that's what you mean."
    "Then why do you?"
    "It entrances me, it always has, so it's what I do—despite occasional ridicule."
    "I'm not ridiculing you."
    "I know you're not, but others say that mine is an effeminate or a useless calling. Well, for some it is. Not for me."
    "Don't get me wrong; I don't think you look effeminate."
    The construction worker drew back to study him. "You're a tough old bastard, I think. You remind me of my father."
    "Thank you," Alessandro replied, slightly alarmed.
    Now the way to Monte Prato was clear. He had only to fall into the pleasant hypnosis of travel; to watch the long ranks of trees as they passed; to view the mountains when they first rose over the fields; to observe the great round moon and its attendant bright stars shining through the streetcar's glassy walls; to match the whirring of the engines with the mad chorus of the cicadas; to be comfortable, and old, and content with small things. He assumed that the remaining hours would pass without incident, that he
would rest, and that he would be alone—free of memories too great for the heart to hold.
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    B EFORE IT came to the edge of the city, where it would pick up speed, the trolley wound through many small streets not as congenial as the one on the side of the hill where Alessandro Giuliani had embarked. It crossed and recrossed the river Aniene, and