A Life by Italo Svevo Read Free Book Online Page A

justified himself, he added another crude comment, with a laugh, though: “When I come across women so active and aggressive, so disturbing, in fact, I think of an Englishman telling some overeager woman that he pays to kiss and not to be kissed!”
    On the station square he shook Alfonso’s hand, murmured a farewell, then left him and moved off towards a cafe. Alfonso felt cold and set off homewards at a run.

V
    T HAT YEAR there was a heatwave in May: for some weeks, from a cloudless sky, scorching beams that were anything but spring-like.
    “It’s not right for us to be sweating in May on such wretched pay,” said Ballina.
    Work had not yet slackened off. From Signor Cellani’s office, through Sanneo’s, into the correspondence room flowed huge piles of incoming letters. Even Giacomo grumbled at carrying them about.
    In June work began to lessen slightly, and Miceni, who had a methodical nature, explained to Alfonso the laws regulating this decrease.
    “In June the richest bankers, the brains of the banking world, the people who initiate speculations, withdraw to the country. Our daily work remains the same because they don’t influence that, but we haven’t the sudden rushes of work, the issues and conversions, that torture subordinates so. In July work lessens, not because of any change in the banks, but because the richer merchants begin their holidays. In August, our best month of the year, off go bank managers and the like, even shopkeepers. Only the bare essential number of clerks stays on.”
    Maller’s did not correspond to the rules. In May and June some clerks and department heads took their holidays; in July, Signor Cellani, the assistant manager; and Signor Maller had a few days in August.
    First to leave was Sanneo, who took a fortnight’s holiday even though he had a right to a month’s. The clerks said that Signor Sanneo could not bear to be deprived too long of his daily sustenance of post and polemics.
    Alfonso happened to be present when Sanneo gave his instructions to Miceni, who was to act for him in his absence. Sanneo’s office was next to Signor Cellani’s and darker because the light was cut off by a building opposite. This room also had carpets in winter, but, except for a comfortable wide desk of black wood handed on by the assistant manager, who had taken another, thefurniture was identical to that in the other offices: two wooden cupboards with rough yellow paint, a chair with a plaited seat, and beside the only window another desk from which the shelf had been taken.
    Sanneo, seated, was handing over to Miceni, standing on his right, a big pile of letters one by one, pointing out exactly what he was to do on a given day or after receiving such-and-such a letter. Some letters he put back even after giving full instructions about them, observing with a wry look that there was no need for an immediate reply, and he would do it in his own time. Obviously he did not like handing over all his work to Miceni.
    Miceni returned to his room with his head high, his slight body tense, and a stiff step. He sat down and muttered with a smile of contempt: “As many explanations as if I’d joined the bank yesterday!” Then some details of his interview with Sanneo occurred to him and he laughed: “What’ll you bet that at the last moment he regrets going and stays?”
    Alfonso longed to get away and could not imagine others wanting to stay.
    Soon after, Sanneo came in to say he was deferring his departure till the next day. Miceni looked at Alfonso, and, when Sanneo went out, exclaimed angrily, “Was it worth keeping me there an hour and giving me all those instructions I didn’t need?”
    “They’ll be all right for tomorrow,” replied Alfonso, who could not understand anyone getting angry about business.
    “He’ll no more leave tomorrow than he has today.”
    But Sanneo did leave. That evening he went round the offices saying goodbye to the clerks. He gave a hand to Alfonso, who