By this time we had reached Castelvetrano, and supper overshadowed the
lottery. Angelo cooked everything; we began with maccaroni, after which we ate the fish and the sparrows, and wound up with the rabbit. It was all very good, but it seemed hardly right to eat the sparrows, besides, there was scarcely as much on one of them as there had been on one of the artichokes at the caserma.
During supper, something—it may have been the sparrows or, perhaps, the Madonna again—inspired me with an idea for a number that met with Angelo’s enthusiastic approval. I remembered that my birthday was near and proposed to put my money upon the number of that day of the month. Nothing could have been better and he recommended me to take also my age, that would give me two numbers and I could have an ambo, I should not win on a single number unless it came out first, whereas, if I did not specify their positions, my two numbers might come out anywhere and if they did I should win about 250 francs. Angelo accepted as a good omen the fact that neither of my numbers exceeded 90, and next morning we called on his cousin and put a franc on 27 and 52.
Now, a lottery is an immoral thing,
accordingly I expected to feel as though I had committed an immoral action, instead of which I felt just as I usually do. I, therefore, gave my ticket to Angelo in order that, if I should develop a conscience by the time the numbers came out, I might silence it by the consciousness of having disclaimed all hope of gain. This was perhaps a little cowardly, for the effects of a lottery are said to be most pernicious to those who win. But no harm was done in the end, the actual numbers drawn the following Saturday being 39, 42, 89, 83, 28, so Angelo lost and likewise the brigadier and the corporal and the guards who had put their money on 33.
CASTELLINARIA
CHAPTER II—PEPPINO
The train passed through the tunnel under the headland on which stands the Albergo Belvedere, and steamed into the station of Castellinaria, a town that is not so marked on any map of Sicily. I had written to Carmelo to meet the train and drive me up, but he was not among the coachmen. I recognized his brother, and said to him—
“Hullo! Rosario, where have you been all these years?”
“Well, you see,” he replied, “I have been away. First there was the military service and then I had a disgrazia; but I have come back now.”