On that day, as chance would have it, Adalberto had set out in his car to go for a spin in the countryside to view his estate, sometimes a love of nature requires such outings, and although the car cannot plunge in among the foliage, down tracks and over fallow fields, it nonetheless gives him freedom enough to roam along these cart tracks, as long as his car has a good suspension and he keeps a light touch on the steering wheel and doesn’t attempt to drive too fast. Adalberto is alone, the better to enjoy the rural solitude and the birdsong, although the car engine does somewhat disturb both the peace and the music, but it’s all a matter of knowing how to combine ancient and modern, rather than clinging to past pleasures, the easy gait of the horse pulling the tilbury, and the straw hat in profile beneath the limber length of the whip, which now and then caresses the horse’s rump, which is all it takes for the horse to understand what you want. These are delights rarely encountered now, a horse costs a fortune and eats even when it isn’t working, the horse, needless to say, is a distinguished beast, with its somewhat feudal echoes, but times inevitably change, and not only is the car much cleaner, it impresses the populace and saves one from unnecessary familiarities, we haven’t got time for that.
Today, however, Adalberto is at peace, following the gentle curves of the road, his elbow nonchalantly leaning on the open window, since Lamberto died, all this land is mine, although, in fact, not all of Lamberto’s land went to him, because that would make another good story, the divisions and redivisions, the amalgamations and accretions, but we don’t have time right now, we should have started earlier, now Adalberto’s car appears among the trees, the sun glinting on its polished body and on the chrome, and suddenly he stops. He’s probably seen us, we’d better go a little farther down the hill, just to avoid any awkward questions, because I’m a peace-loving man and a respecter of other people’s property, and when we look back to see if a furious Adalberto is following hard on our heels, we see, with horror, that he is getting out of his car and staring, enraged, at the languid flock, which takes no notice of him, just as they took no notice of us, not even the dogs see him, intent as they are on sniffing out rabbits, and then, shaking his fist, he gets back in the car, turns around, jolting over the rough ground, and, as they say in novels, disappears in a cloud of dust. We, needless to say, have legged it already, something is about to happen, why did he storm off like that, after all, this is a flock of sheep, not a pride of lions, but only Adalberto knows why as he hurtles back to Monte Lavre in search of reinforcements, namely the guards, who, at this very moment, are dying of boredom at the barracks, but that’s what the latifundio is like, it’s either man the barricades or complete idleness, such is the fate of those who choose the military life, and the reason why their superiors put on maneuvers and exercises, otherwise, Corporal, it’s all or nothing.
Adalberto arrives at the entrance to the barracks in the aforesaid cloud of dust, and although his body is heavy with age and other excesses, he steps lightly in, it’s not a large space but it coped easily enough, as I’m sure you’ll recall, with all those orchestrated entrances and exits during that business over the thirty-three escudos, and when he leaves, he is not alone, he’s joined by Corporal Tacabo and by a private, and all three climb into Adalberto’s car, Holy Mother, where are those guards off to in such a hurry, the old ladies standing at their doors do not know, but we do, they are coming here where the flock is grazing, while the shepherd rests beneath a holm oak, and his assistants, with the help of the dogs, watch the sheep, it’s not a major operation but it’s not without its problems either, keeping such a large flock together, without too many gaps, after all, a sheep, too, needs a little breathing space, And what next, while we wait for Adalberto, there’s something I don’t quite understand, why this close relationship between the latifundio and the guards, You’re either very naïve or you haven’t been paying attention, how can you still be asking such questions at this stage in the story, or are you just play-acting, pretending that you don’t know, perhaps it’s a mere rhetorical device, the effective use of repetition,
