The Beach Read Free

another swig, and joined in Ginio's song. The two of them together soon silenced the dogs, which was at least enough to make me realize the song was melancholy, with much lingering on the lowest notes and words oddly gentle in that rough dialect. It may well be that the moon and the wine played their part in making them seem so. What I am sure of is the joy, the sudden happiness I felt as I stretched out my hand to touch Doro's shoulder. I felt a catch in my breath, and suddenly loved him because we had come back together after such a long time.
    That other character—a certain Biagio, it turned out—every so often yowled a note, a phrase, and then dropped his head and picked up the conversation with me where he had left it. I explained to him that I was not from Genoa and that my work was paid by the state because of my university degree. Then he told me he wanted to get married but wanted to do it up brown, and to do it up brown one needed Doro's luck, who at Genoa had picked up both a wife and an agency. The word "agency" gives me the creeps,- I lost patience and said sharply: "But do you know Doro's wife?... If you don't, keep your mouth shut."
    It's when I talk like that to people that I know I'm over thirty. I thought about this a while, that night, while Doro and the bricklayer started on their army stories. The bottle came around to me, after lime-stained Ginio had wiped the mouth with the palm of his hand, and I took a long pull, the better to relieve in wine the feelings I couldn't relieve in song.
    "Yes, sir, excuse me," Ginio said as he took the bottle back, "but if you come back next year I'll be married and we'll crack one in my house."
    "Do you always let your father order you around?" Doro said.
    "It's not me who lets, it's he who orders."
    "He's been ordering you around for thirty years now. Hasn't he broken his neck yet?"
    "It would be easier for you to break his," said the type with the necktie, laughing nervously.
    "And what does he say about Orsolina? Will he let you marry her?"
    "I don't know yet," Ginio said, drawing back from the ditch and squirming on the ground like an eel. "If he doesn't, so much the better," he grumbled, two yards away. That little man as white as a baker, who did monkeyshines and used the familiar tu with Doro —I remember him every time I see the moon. Later I made Clelia laugh heartily when I described him. She laughed in that charming way of hers and said: "What a boy Doro is! He will never change."
    But I didn't tell Clelia what happened afterward. Ginio and Doro started another song and this time we all bawled it out. It ended with a furious voice from the farmhouse yelling to shut up. In the sudden quiet Biagio shouted back some insolence and took the song up again defiantly. Doro began again too, when Ginio jumped to his feet. "No," he stammered, "he recognized me. It's my father." But Biagio didn't give a damn. Ginio and Doro had to jump him to stop his mouth. We were still swaying and sliding around on the same spot of grass when Doro had an idea. "The Murette sisters," he said to Ginio. "We can't sing here, but they used to sing once. Let's go see Rosa." And he set off right away, while the Biagio character grabbed my arm and whispered in a panic: "Oh, my God. That's where the brigadiere lives." The situation looked bad, but I caught up with Doro and pulled him back. "Don't mix wine and women, Doro," I shouted. "Remember we're supposed to be gentlemen."
    But Ginio came up in a determined manner, admitted that the three girls must have put on weight, still, we weren't going for that but only to sing a little, and suppose they are fat, what the hell? a woman should be well-rounded. He yanked and hauled at Doro, saying: "Rosa will remember, you'll see." We were on the main road under the moon, all milling excitedly around Doro, who was strangely undecided.
    Rosa won, because Biagio said nastily: "Can't you see they won't want you because you're filthy with lime?", at