Chapter 17 Chapter Sixteen

Yes, I am waiting for him.He went out very late, when the torches on the road were all extinguished.If I hadn't opened the window, I might not have heard the creaking of the side door, or seen his hurrying figure in the dark.I can't remember how many times I've followed him in my imagination. All evening I was tormented by my imaginary bravery; I deliberately dressed myself up and urged myself to follow him out.In a matter of days, I'd be locked in someone else's life, locked in another house in this city, with no sense of where the land is. Graph layout doesn't know anything, so my favorite nightly freedom ends.Sitting next to me at the window is the hat I stole from Tommaso's bedroom.I spent a lot of time trying them on and knowing how to position them to cover my face.It's a complicated game, a deal I've made with myself.If I was destined to marry and live a reclusive life, then I would not be willing to give in so sadly.I would be so sorry for myself then.Moreover, if there is a devil out there, he has a lot of sinful people to punish, so there is no need to embarrass me, a girl who doesn't listen to her parents, but is just out to breathe some night air to leave a memory of freedom.

I walked down the stairs and across the backyard.The side door for the servants opened into an alley, and at this time of night the door was usually bolted, but he just concealed it and went out.If anyone gets up at this time and finds out about this, I know he'll just have to lock the door and he's screwed.But I followed him out anyway. I took a step outside and the door was ajar behind me.I pulled it on and tried pushing it again to make sure it wasn't locked. After standing for a while, my heart stopped beating wildly. I felt myself calm down, and walked on again in the dark.

I took a few deep breaths, the smell of freedom mixed with the sour smell of rotting food and urine.Of course, I don't hold back from fear.A man as stupid and dull as my brother, who spends his days in the dark having fun, is not hurt.I had only to muster up the courage they had, and walk down the street to the cathedral, and from there to the river; and then I came back.That's not enough distance to get lost, but when my own daughters reach the age of fantasy freedom, it's enough for me to tell them that there's nothing to fear and nothing to miss at night.It is no different from daytime.

The streets are wider now, and I walk faster, my shoes clattering on the cobblestones, and Baba's cloak dragging across the ground.Where is the painter now?It took me a while to follow him; he would have probably crossed the old bridge long ago.How long will he be there before he comes back?That depends on what he does on the way, but I'm not going to think about that right now. "It's late, little master, do your parents know you're here?" I'm chilled from head to toe: found out.A voice as sweet as honey came from somewhere in the dark depths.If only I had been home in Baptistery Square a few minutes ago, but running now would only show my cowardice.

I saw coming out of the darkness a monastic-looking figure, a large man in a Dominican cassock, his face covered by a hood.I hurried away. "There's no place you can hide out of God's sight, sir. Take off your hat and let me see your face." His voice was sharp.But I had run to the corner of the street, put his words behind me, and plunged into the darkness. "That's right, go home, kid. Put your hat on when you go to church, so I know whose confession to listen to." Out of breath, I tried to keep my mind on the map in my head.I turned left, and left again at the next corner; and down a long, steep alley, I must have come back near the church.I heard a burst of laughter, and then two men appeared in the dark, and my blood froze in an instant.They walked side by side, shoulder to shoulder, staring at each other, and didn't notice my existence for a long time.If I turned back, I would come across the monk, and there was no other alley between me and them.The faster I go, the sooner I may be finished.One of them saw me first, took his hand away from his companion's waist, and took a step forward.The other quickly followed suit, and the two of them staggered back and forth, leaving less than a foot of space between them.I pulled my clothes tighter and lowered my head so that Tommaso's hat completely covered my face.I heard them getting closer, and suddenly felt short of breath, and a rush of blood rushed to my head.Before I had time to think too much, they were already in front of me.I really wanted to run away, but I was afraid that this might irritate them, so I tightened my shoulders, counted my steps, and walked over with my head buried.

When they touched me, I heard them make animal noises, harsh and frightening. "Tack, shake, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh." At the same time, sharp giggles sounded.They squeezed past me, and I tried not to cry out. Then they were gone, as if in an instant.The wanton laughter echoed in the night sky, and when I looked back, I found that they were hugging each other, forgetting the prank just now, walking like a puddle of sewage. I was fine, but what was left of my courage was also gone.When I saw them out of sight, I turned and ran home.Needless to say, I stumbled and clumsily in my haste.At last my family's mansion appeared before me, with a shrine in one corner, and a saint in it watched the nocturnal traveler.With the last of my strength, I rushed into the house.After closing the door, my legs trembled.Stupid, stupid girl.I walked a dozen streets, but as soon as I saw a stranger, I was so scared that I ran home.I have no courage, no spirituality, and should be locked up.The devil may take a loose woman, but a good woman dies of boredom, ennui, and frustration.

I was both nervous and angry, and shed tears.I walked with difficulty to the room, and when I got to the middle of the yard, I heard the door open again.I hid in the shadows, it must be him.The door closed quickly, and there was the sound of the bolt being locked.There was a moment of silence, and then there was the clatter of footsteps in the yard.I waited quietly, and he walked towards me.He was breathing heavily, maybe he had just come back from a gallop.If I had been silent, he might have just walked past me.But why should I do this?Is it because I'm cowardly?In order to prove that I am different from what others say?Or just because it's not polite to confront someone as terrified as I was just now?

"Are you doing well?" I stepped out and blocked his way.He was startled by me and jumped up, and I heard a dull sound like a heavy object falling to the ground.He slumped to the ground, looking annoyed, not because of my sudden appearance, but because of his own embarrassment.I walked over and caught the rough cover of a book with my fingers.Our hands touched each other, but he retracted immediately as if he had been burned.I handed the book back to him and he grabbed it. "What are you doing here?" he hissed. "Wait for you." "why?" "As I said, I need your help."

"I can't help you, do you understand?" I heard some fear in his voice. "Why? What's going on outside? What do you see?" "Nothing, nothing, you go away." He stood up, pushed me away, and staggered away.But we made too much noise, someone yelled in the dark not far outside the yard.I crouched in the dark, the sound died away, and after a while, I heard his walking away.I waited until everything was still and propped myself up with my hands.Then I noticed something on the ground next to it. It was a piece of paper, which must have fallen out of the book.Clinging to it, I made no sound and walked back down the servants' stairs across the yard.

When I was safely back in my room, I lit the oil lamp.Its flame danced a few times and slowly lit up. I unfolded the paper and spread it out on the bed. It had been ripped out of it so that only half of the portrait remained, but enough to see what it was painting.On the screen is a part of a man's body, with bare legs and half of his body.The torn part should be where the neck is.The brushes appear sloppy and seem to have been done in a hurry, but leave a memorable impression.His body had been slit open, with a deep gash running from his collarbone to his groin; like an animal in a butcher's stall, his flesh had been cut and his entrails removed and set aside.

I put my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.That's when I recognized the smell on my fingers: a fetid, rotten smell, exactly the same as it had emanated from him the last time he was in the chapel.Now that I think of it, he too was out the night before we went to the chapel.Then I finally understood that it is not prostitutes but dead people who deal with our pious painter outside at night.