Julio had excused himself - a toothache! He'd called a dentist who, even at this late hour, had agreed to see him. His daughter, Julietta, would see the brothers off the premises when they were done.
Perhaps Francesco had drunk a little too much Mavrodaphne, too large a measure of brandy. Or it could be that in the gloom and draughty emptiness of the place, with the picked-at food gone cold on their plates, and the knowledge of lowering skies just beyond the arches, the woman had looked more radiant, more luminous ... more pure? Whatever, Francesco had looked at her in a certain way, and she had looked back. And Anthony Francezci had gone down to the limo on his own, while his brother ...
At which point the silver grey hearse of a car had swerved to avoid a dead animal in the road - a goat, Mario thought! - and again Francesco had been shaken from his reflections where he lolled in a corner of the back seat. Perhaps it was as well. They had been passing close to Bagheria; in a moment they'd be making a sharp right turn. Oh, yes, for Tony would surely want to park a while at a place he was fond of: the Vila Palagonia.
'What, drawn to your monsters yet again?' Francesco's comment had been petulant, almost angry; he was irritated that his mood and memories had been broken into.
'Our monsters!' Tony had answered immediately and sharply. For it was true enough: both of the brothers knew the inspiration behind the lunatic array of stone beasts that adorned the walls of the villa. The carved dwarves and gargoyles, the creatures with human hands and feet, and other Things that defied description. Some two hundred years ago the owner of the villa, Prince Ferdinando Gravina, had insisted upon visiting Le Manse Madonie, home to the Ferenczinis, as their name was then. Rich as Croesus, he had been interested to discover why the equally wealthy Ferenczinis were satisfied to dwell in such an 'out-of-the-way, austere, almost inhospitable sort of place.'
And Ferdinando's mania for grotesques - or his mania in general - had later emerged as a direct result of that visit.
But in any case Francesco had shrugged, saying, 'According to Swinburne, these sculptures have their origin in Diodorus's tale of the freakish creatures that came out of the Nile's sunbaked mud.' And before his brother could answer: 'Perhaps it's better if that legend prevails? It was a long time ago, after all. Too long ago, for such as you and I to remember!'
At which Tony had scowled and answered, 'Ferdinando looked into the pit, brother - the pit at Le Manse Madonie - and we both know it!' And then, sneeringly: 'Let's be discreet by all means, but in the privacy of our own car in a place like this, who is there to eavesdrop?'
Then, as at a signal, Mario had driven on for Palermo ...
And now they were there, at the Cafe Julio, and the fat little sod seating them at a table on his precious balcony and detailing his odious 'cuisine,' from which list they ordered this and that: a few items to pick at, a carafe of red wine. All a sham, a show; the brothers moved the food about their plates, waiting for Sclafani to mention Julietta. And eventually, returning upstairs from some small duty in the kitchens:
'Gentlemen, I'm eternally in your debt!' Julio bowed and scraped, plucked nervously at the towel over his arm as he sidled up to their table. 'Er, I mean with regard to your kindness in providing a ... a companion for my daughter. I cannot bring myself to call the old lady a nurse - can't admit to any real sickness in my girl - but the woman is a godsend nevertheless. She fetches and carries, sees to my daughter's needs, and I am left free to attend my business.'
'Julietta?' Francesco contrived to look concerned. 'Your daughter? Is she no better, then? We'd wondered why she wasn't around ...' He looked down over the balcony into the courtyard, casting here and there with his dark eyes as if searching.
Julio turned his own eyes to the night sky and flapped his hands in an attitude of despair or supplication. 'Oh, my lovely girl! Weak as water and pale as a cloud! Julietta will get better, I am sure. But for now ... she reclines upon her bed, with shadows under her eyes, and complains about the