"We want Uganda!"
"We want Rosetta!"
An official groom shoved Giorgio to one side, took hold of Gaudenzia. There was now no need for Giorgio. And then, in a flash, he realized there was no need for him anywhere! The awfulness struck him. For nine months he had been blindly running up a dead-end street. Feeling sick and bereft, he went back into the empty courtyard. He picked up Gaudenzia's rub rag, hung it on a peg. He made meaningless motions of tidying up. But even here, away from the crowd, he saw the whole scene in his mind—the Mayor and the captains at the long table, the urns containing the capsules, the pages and trumpeters waiting. And then, as in a storm, when thunder rumbles and ricochets from rock to rock, the voices came booming against the Palazzo wall and into the very courtyard:
"Number seven, Ravu, to the Ram!"
He could hear the Rams roaring with joy for the favorite.
"Number nine, Pinocchio, to the Giraffe!"
Men and boys howled in derision, "Long Neck gets Long Nose! Long Neck gets Long Nose."
The roaring was uncontrolled; it subsided only while the capsules were being opened.
"Number one to the Wolf!"
"Number five to the Dragon!"