Tetro is pointed and the ancient palace of the bishops, saltpetre dripping from the walls, is a stay execution on winter nights. And the nearby cathedral is immense, not enough to turn the whole life, and there is such a maze of chapels and the sacristy, after centuries of neglect, some were left virtually unexplored. What will Christmas Eve - one wonders - the thin archbishop alone, while the city is celebrating? How will win the melancholy? They all have one consolation: the child has the train and Pinocchio, the little sister's doll, the mother has children around him, the patient a new hope, the old bachelor's companion dissipation, the prisoner's voice from another neighboring cell. How will the archbishop? He smiled the zealous Don Valentine, Secretary of His Excellency, hearing people talk like that. The archbishop has God on Christmas Eve. Kneeling all alone in the middle of the cathedral cold and deserted at first glance it might almost be worth, and yet if you knew! All by myself is not and has not even cold, or feeling abandoned. On the evening of Christmas, God is rampant in the temple, for the Archbishop, the aisles will literally overflowing, so that the ports are struggling to quit, and, even without the stoves, it is so cold that the old white snakes wake up in the tombs of historical abbots and rising from the basement vents gently poking his head from the balustrades of the confessionals.
So, that night the cathedral, full of God although he knew he did not compete, Don Valentino lingered all too happy to have the bishop of the kneeler. Other than trees, turkeys and sparkling wine. This, an evening of Christmas. Except that in the midst of these thoughts, he heard a knock at the door. "Who knocks at the door of the cathedral," said Don Valentino is "Christmas Eve? They have not prayed enough? What madness has taken them? "While saying so he went to open and a gust of wind came a poor man in rags.
"How much di Dio!” esclamò sorridendo costui guardandosi intorno. “Che bellezza! Lo si sente persino di fuori. Monsignore, non me potrebbe lasciare un pochino? Pensi, è la sera di Natale.”
“È di sua eccellenza l’arcivescovo” rispose il prete. “Serve a lui, fra un paio d’ore. Sua eccellenza fa già la vita di un santo, non pretenderai mica che adesso rinunci anche a Dio! E poi io non sono mai stato monsignore.”
“Neanche un pochino, reverendo? Ce n’è tanto! Sua eccellenza non se ne accorgerebbe nemmeno!”
“Ti ho detto di no … Puoi andare … Il Duomo è chiuso al pubblico” e congedò il poverello con un biglietto da cinque lire.
Ma come il disgraziato uscì dalla chiesa, nello stesso istante Dio disparve. Sgomento, don Valentino si guardava intorno, scrutando le volte tenebrose: Dio non c’era neppure lassù. Lo spettacoloso apparato di colonne, statue, baldacchini, altari, catafalchi, candelabri, panneggi, di solito così misterioso e potente, era diventato all’improvviso inospitale e sinistro. E tra un paio d’ore l’arcivescovo sarebbe disceso.
Con orgasmo don Valentino socchiuse una delle porte esterne, guardò nella piazza. Niente. Anche fuori, benché fosse Natale, non c’era traccia di Dio. Dalle mille finestre accese giungevano echi di risate, bicchieri infranti, musiche e even curses. Not bells, no chants.
Don Valentino went out in the night, went to the streets profane, between the din of wild banquets. But he knew the right address. When he entered the house, the family friend was sitting at the table. They all looked at each other kindly and around them was a little of God
"Merry Christmas, Reverend," said the householder. "You want some?"
"I fast, my friends," he said. For God my carelessness has left the Cathedral and its excellence is soon to pray. Do not you give me yours? So, you are in company, you do not have an absolute need. "
" dear I don Valentino "said the householder. "You forget, I would say that today is Christmas. Just today, my children would do without God? I wonder, Don Valentine. "
And in the very way God said that man slipped out of the room, the cheerful smiles went out and roast capon felt sand between your teeth.
Way back then, in the night, the streets deserted. Walk, walk, Don Valentine finally saw him again. He arrived at the gates of the city and before him lay in the dark, are white for a little snow, the great campaign. Over the fields and rows of mulberry trees, swaying God, as if waiting. Don Valentine dropped to his knees.
"But what it does, reverendo?” gli domandò un contadino. “Vuol prendersi un malanno con questo freddo?”
“Guarda laggiù, figliolo, non vedi?”
Il contadino guardò senza stupore. “È nostro” disse. “Ogni Natale viene a benedire i nostri campi.”
“Senti” disse il prete. “Non me ne potresti dare un poco? In città siamo rimasti senza, perfino le chiese sono vuote. Lasciamene un pochino che l’arcivescovo possa almeno fare un Natale decente.”
“Ma neanche per idea, caro il mio reverendo! Chissà che schifosi peccati avete fatto nella vostra città. Colpa vostra. Arrangiatevi.”
“Si è peccato, secure. And who does not sin? But you can save many souls son, only to tell me so. "
" Enough to save me! "Chuckled the farmer. And in the very moment that he said it, God rose up from his fields and disappeared into the darkness.
went even further by looking. God seemed to be increasingly rare, and who had a little did not want to sell it (but in the very act that he says no, God disappeared, gradually moving away.)
Don Valentino Hence the limits of a vast wilderness, and in the end, just on the horizon, God shone softly as a cloud oblong. The young priest fell on his knees in the snow. "Wait for me, O Lord" pleaded for the archbishop is my fault alone, and tonight it's Christmas! "
His feet were frozen, he walked in the mist, sank to his knees, stretched out every now and then collapsing. How would resist? Until he heard a chorus
lying and pathetic, rumors of an angel, a ray of light filtered through the fog. He opened a wooden door: it was a great church and in the middle, a few candles, a priest was praying. And the church was full of heaven.
"Brother" groaned Don Valentine, the limit of strength, full of ice "have mercy on me. My archbishop because of me is left alone and needs God Give me a little, please. "
Slowly he turned the man who was praying. And Don Valentino, recognizing him, he became, if possible, even paler.
"Merry Christmas to you, Don Valentine," said the Archbishop making meeting, the whole fence of God "bless her, but where have you been? You can find out what you are going to try out on this night by wolves? ".
(Story by Dino Buzzati from the book "The shop the mystery." Oscar Mondadori Editions)
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