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making a fool of those who had till then heaved and rowed, he chose a spot opposite one of the sandbars
and spurred his horse into the water. Crossing a bar, he was on the other shore without even having
made the animal swim, and he dashed like a madman, sword upraised, towards the outwork.
As the sky was already growing light, a group of enemy musketeers surrounded him, having no idea who
this solitary rider was. The solitary rider rode through them, eliminating at least five with unerring
downward blows; he encountered two cavalrymen, made his horse rear, bent to one side, avoid-ing a
thrust, and suddenly sat erect, swinging his blade in a circle: the first adversary slumped over his saddle
with his guts slipping down into his boots as the horse ran off; the second remained with his eyes wide,
his fingers seeking one ear which, while still attached to his cheek, was hanging below his chin.
Pozzo arrived at the outwork. The invaders, busy stripping the last to fall fugitives shot in the
back had no idea where this man had come from. He entered the compound, calling his son in a loud
voice; he swept away another four people as he described a circle, jabbing his sword at all the cardinal
points. Emerging from the straw, Roberto saw him at a dis-tance and, before recognizing his father, he
recognized Pa-gnufli, his father s mount and his own playmate for years. He stuck two fingers into his
mouth and let out a whistle the animal knew well, and in fact Pagnufli reared, pricked up his ears, and
began carrying the father towards the breach. Pozzo saw Roberto and shouted, What are you doing in a
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place like that? Mount, you lunatic! And as Roberto sprang onto the horse s back and clung to his
father s waist, Pozzo said, God s truth, you re never where you should be. Then, spurring Pagnufli
again, he galloped off towards the river.
Now some of the looters realized that this man in this place was out of place, and they pointed at him,
shouting. An officer wearing a dented cuirass and with three soldiers follow-ing him tried to block
Pozzo s path. The old man saw him, started to swerve, then pulled on the reins and cried, Talk about
fate! Roberto looked ahead and realized that this was the Spaniard who had let them pass three days
before. The officer, too, had recognized his prey, and he advanced, eyes gleaming, sword upraised.
Old Pozzo rapidly shifted his sword to his left hand, drew his pistol from his belt, and held out his arm,
all so quickly that the Spaniard was surprised; in his impetuosity he was now almost facing Pozzo, who
however did not fire at once. He allowed himself the time to say, Sorry about the pistol. But you re
wearing a breastplate, so I have every right He pressed the trigger and felled the man with a bullet in
his mouth. The soldiers, seeing their leader fall, took flight, and Pozzo replaced the pistol, saying, We d
better go on before they lose their temper.... Move, Pagnufli!
In a great cloud of dust they crossed the ground and, amid violent spray, the river, while in the distance
some men were still emptying their weapons after them.
They reached the right bank, to applause. Toiras said: Tres bien fait, mon cher ami, then added, to
Roberto, La Grive, today all of them ran off, and only you remained. What s bred in the bone... You re
wasted in that company of cowards. You will join my staff.
Roberto thanked him and then, climbing down from the saddle, held out a hand to his father, to thank
him. Pozzo clasped it absently, saying, I m sorry for that Spaniard, such a fine gentleman. Well, war s an
ugly animal, that s sure. Any-way, my son, never forget: always be good, but if somebody comes at you
and means to kill you, then he s in the wrong. Am I right?
They re-entered the city, and Roberto heard his father still muttering to himself, I didn t go looking for
him....
CHAPTER 5
TheLabyrinth of theWorld
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roberto recalls thatepisode, caught up in a moment of filial devotion, daydreaming of a happy time when
a protective figure could save him from the confusion of a siege, but he cannot help recalling what
happened afterwards. And this does not seem to me a simple accident of memory. I have said before
that Roberto apparently connects those distant events with his experiences on theDaphne, as if to find
motives, rea-sons, signs of destiny. Now I would say that harking back, on the ship, to the Casale days
helps him retrace the stages through which, as a youth, he slowly learned that the world was composed
of alien architectures.
As if, on the one hand, finding himself now suspended between sky and sea could be only the most
consequent de-velopment of his three lustra of peregrinations in a territory made up of forked paths; and,
on the other hand, I believe that in reconstructing the history of his misfortunes he was seeking
consolation for his present state, as if the shipwreck had restored him to that earthly paradise he had
known at La Griva and had left behind on entering the walls of the besieged city.
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