Guide Faintly Falling. Il rumore della neve (Italian Edition)

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Felle tried to get her to tell him what she was talking about, but Lia closed the door in his face, and he crossed the yard to his own house. His house really did smell of the festivities: it smelled of baked apple cake, and of cookies made with orange peels and toasted almonds; and Felle found himself gritting his teeth, as if he were already gnawing at all those things, delicious but still hidden from sight.

His sister, tall and slim, was already all dressed up, wearing a green brocade corset and a red and black skirt; framing her pale face was a flowered silk headscarf; and even her shoes were embroidered and had a bow on them: she looked like a young fairy. He pulled the piglet out of his sack: it was red with the blood they had smeared onto the hide.

Yes, it was bigger. In fact, it was almost a pig, but the one he had brought was tenderer and not fatty, which meant it would be tastier. And the cake, and the sweets? Then entered the brothers, bringing into the kitchen, first clean and tidy, their heavy snow-packed footprints and their feral smell. They were all strong and handsome, with black eyes and black beards, and were fitted in armor-like waistcoats, worn under sheepskin coats.

He was an elderly man of over eighty, straight-backed and strong, and dressed in baize and velvet, like a Medieval gentleman, with woolen gaiters on his strong legs. He was the grandfather who had fought for the independence of Italy in his youth. He greeted the five brothers with a military salute, and then looked them over as if they were lined up for inspection. The elderly gentleman was given the best seat in the house, near the fireplace; and there they saw, on the breast of his jacket, among the shimmering buttons, a medal of honour, glistening like a small star.

She thanked him with her eyes, then, also furtively, went to show her mother and her brothers the coin, starting from the eldest and working her way down to the youngest, while she brought each a glass filled to the brim. Felle was last, and he tried to take the coin from her, out of fun, out of curiosity; but she tightened her fist menacingly: she would rather have lost an eye.

The old man lifted his glass, wishing health and happiness to all; and they all echoed his toast in unison. They then started conversing in an original fashion, that is to say, in song. The old man was a fine impromptu poet: he could improvise well. They challenged each other, reciting octaves on holiday themes; and the others listened on, echoing the lyrics and clapping.

It was time to prepare the dinner. Their mother, with the help of Felle, removed the pork legs and stuck them on three long skewers, the handle fixed firmly to the ground. Happily, Felle grabbed the fat juicy leg by the hock and went out into the yard. The night was freezing cold, but calm, and all of a sudden it seemed as if the whole town had awaken in the fantastic light of the snow, because, along with the sound of the church bells, you could hear carolling and cries.

As soon as Felle entered the room, they stirred, looking at the pork leg that he was swinging left and right like a thurible, but they said nothing: no, that was not the gift they had been waiting for.

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Go away. He was deep in thought when he returned to his house. There were no secrets or pain there: everything was alive, bustling with joy. Christmas had never been so marvellous, not even when his father was still with them. They all got up to go to mass. Only their mother stayed behind to mind the skewers, which she turned slowly over the fire to make a perfect pork roast.

The snow silenced their steps; hooded figures appeared from every which way, lanterns in hand, projecting fantastic shadows and auras.

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They exchanged greetings, knocking on doors to summon others to the mass. He felt, under his woolly clothes, as warm and happy as a lamb in the May sun; his hair, cold from the snowy air, seemed to be made of grass. He thought of all the good things he would eat after the mass, in his warm house; but remembering that Jesus was born in a cold manger, naked and without food, made him feel like crying, like swathing him in his own robes, and bringing him home with him.

Inside the church, the illusion of spring continued: the altar was decorated with branches of strawberry tree covered in red berries, of myrtle, of laurel; the candles shone among the foliage, and the shadows it created were outlined on the sides, like on the walls of a garden. There was a Nativity scene in one of the chapels, with a mountain made of cork covered in moss: the three Wise Men were descending cautiously along a steep path, and a golden comet illumined their way. Sono tutti morti. Detto fatto, gli legarono le mani dietro le spalle e passatogli un nodo scorsoio intorno alla gola, lo attaccarono penzoloni al ramo di una grossa pianta detta la Quercia grande.

Annoiati finalmente di aspettare, si voltarono a Pinocchio e gli dissero sghignazzando: - Addio a domani. E se ne andarono.

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If the poor Marionette had dangled there much longer, all hope would have been lost. Luckily for him, the Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair once again looked out of her window. Filled with pity at the sight of the poor little fellow being knocked helplessly about by the wind, she clapped her hands sharply together three times.

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At the signal, a loud whirr of wings in quick flight was heard and a large Falcon came and settled itself on the window ledge. Fly immediately to him. With your strong beak, break the knot which holds him tied, take him down, and lay him softly on the grass at the foot of the oak. Alive or dead? A magnificent Poodle appeared, walking on his hind legs just like a man.