I was sincerely glad when I recognised on the road to Rebursa, Oddo
and Antonello Montaga, who had found out the hour of my arrival and
had come to meet me. Both of them embraced me with effusion, delivered
messages of welcome from Trigento, and asked me a thousand questions
at the same moment; they seemed delighted to see me, and still more
delighted when I spoke of my intention of remaining some time in the
country.
“You are going to stay with us!” exclaimed Antonello, as he pressed my
hand almost beside himself with joy. “Then you are sent by God....”
“You must come this very day to Trigento,” said Oddo, interrupting his
brother. “They are all expecting you there. You must come to-day....”
They both seemed to me overcome by a strange, almost feverish
agitation; their gestures were wild and convulsive, their speech rapid
and anxious; they were like two feeble prisoners just set free from an
imprisonment which seems like a terrible dream, whom the first contact
with outward life has disturbed and confused, making them almost dizzy.
The more I looked at them, the more clearly I noticed these strange
signs about their persons; and I began to feel anxious and distressed
about them.
“I don’t know,” I replied, “I don’t know if I can come to-day. I am
weary after so many hours of travelling. But to-morrow....”
I felt a vague desire to be alone, to collect myself, to taste the
quality of the strange melancholy that had suddenly fallen upon me. A
flood of memories rolled towards me from the things around, and the
presence of those two unfortunate beings prevented my receiving it.
“Then,” said Oddo, “you will come to luncheon with us to-morrow. Do you
consent?”
“Yes, I will come.”
“You cannot imagine how eagerly they are expecting you over there.”
“Then you had not forgotten me?”
“Oh, no! It is you who had forgotten us.”
“You had forgotten us,” repeated Antonello with a somewhat distorted
smile. “You were right. We are buried.”
The tone of his voice struck me more than his words. His tones,
gestures, looks, and all his actions had a singular intensity, like
those of a man stricken by a mysterious disease or tormented by a
continual hallucination, living in the midst of apparitions invisible
to the eyes of others. It did not escape my notice that he was making
an effort to break through some atmosphere that surrounded him, and to
communicate more directly with me. This effort imparted a contracted
and convulsed look to his whole person. My anxiety and distress grew
greater.
“You will see our house,” he added with the same smile.