118
PARTISAN REVIEW
Entering the apartment, I ran into a monk; I hurried to the door, waited
for him and told him:
"He didn't ask for you."
My aunt opens the door. The monk is smiling. I'm ready to push him
down the stairs, but he says he has been asked to come. I let him pass and
say behind his back:
"All right, you might as well come in. The dead belong to you, but
while he was alive, he believed in god, but not in priests; and monks he
detested, because he was industrious, worldly and ethical."
But my aunt deafened my words.
The new feeling is growing and developing inside me. The very fact
that the priest came despite my protests- the fact that things went the way
my aunt wanted them- provokes my youthful vanity, honor and temper.
For the first time in my life I feel that I have belief.s which I must affirm
as consistently as possible. What's more , the role of my father's defender
delights me.
My aunt said: "you were drinking while he was dying and yet you now
want to defend his honor." She wants to disarm me. And can I really talk
of ethics? Can I show that my words are-pure defiance. My aunt has also
concealed her desire to rule, to advise and to protect under the veil of reli–
gion. Am I just concealing my defiance as principles? It seems to me that
my defiance actually is turning into- principles. So many words come to
my lips, so much passion in my heart, so many ideas in Illy mind.
The coroner arrives. He examines and concludes. I am at his service. I
take him to my room so he can wash, I give him a clean towel, hand him
his hat; I bow and see him to the door. Thanking him for everything, on
everybody's account. My eighteen years enjoy the politeness no end, the
talking of important matters, with the proper posture and excellent per–
son, and provokingly and at the same time politely I showed my aunt: I was
as polite
to
the coroner as I was with the monk. I received the coroner
with more respect than she showed the priest. Indeed. And I am necessary
in the family and in this grave occasion. Even more than that. In receiving
the coroner I felt like I was bringing into the house an opposition
to
the
reactionary, to the ignorance and-to my aunt, who, next to my father 's
ear, had spi t out all those insul ts and slander of hi s son. And I was the only
child who had been with him. My brothers are arriving now. I can hear
the ear. It's them!
How my head feels enlightened. How the horizon is clearing, the duty
and my thoughts. For eighteen years a thought.... And I had kept my tail
between my legs. But now there is no tail.
I began
to
feel flattered by playing the role of a grown man: even
though I was th e youngest, I will be the one to talk of my father's illness,
