I do not see committing a fault that does not feel as if I had committed it myself.

“To all this, what time is it?” Asked Veronica.

Alberto consulted his watch.

“Ten minutes to three.”

“And Angelón without coming.”

“What, do you have an appetite?”

“The truth, a little bit.”

“In the kitchen there must be some leftover from other days.” Maybe up to three or four eggs, and stale bread, and a little bit of alcohol, and maybe oil.

Veronica went to the kitchen and came back very happy.

“Everything you say is there.” We will divide it between the two of us, like good brothers. I’ll be the cook and you will see that I know how to fry well. The bread is like a stone, boy. It is best to fry it too.

Verónica quickly dressed the parva refection and brought it to the room where Alberto was.

“I found wine, what do you think?” Then you will say … If this is charming. The eggs are going to taste good to me. Hey, these for you.

-Thanks. I don’t eat today.

“What don’t you eat?” Well, nothing else was missing. I tell you that with a couple of fried eggs and fried bread I have plenty of it until the evening, and at night, God will tell.

p. 105-It’s not because of that. I have a little fever and I don’t dare to eat. For not eating one day no one dies. Eat it all, come on.

Veronica ate what there was and more that would have been.

“I swear to you, I’ve never eaten anything that tasted better.” I’m going to ask you a favor now.

-Whatever you want.

“That you read me that Othello drama.” You want?

-Why not?

“I have the illusion of being a great lady, who, after having eaten frog legs and nightingale criadillas, goes to the theater.” She huddled in the armchair, very close to the fire. Curtain up.

Shortly after starting reading, Alberto was more interested in Verónica’s comments, questions and observations than Verónica in what she was listening to, and she was extremely interested. The sentimental and intellectual reactions that the drama promoted in Verónica were so simple and spontaneous, and at the same time so varied, that Alberto was amazed and overwhelmed, as if at the initiation of a great secret. It was as if he were in the reconditeness of a magical laboratory, and the naked human heart throbbing between his fingers in its pristine purity, on which he poured the reagents of great art, true art, and discovering how this rare elixir moved In heartbeat, Alberto penetrated the nature of both, of art and of life. Art and life seemed to be given to him, and he imagined being able to imprison them in a formula, of almost mathematical exactitude. Ancient meditations on art and provisional conclusions disjointed with each other were clarified and welded in a fresh and sensitive organic tissue, as if his body had been enriched with an internal sixth sense, a synthesis of the other five and of the soul, prodigiously apt to swallow,p. 106assimilate and give expression to the darkest of art and life, and reject the anti-artistic and anti-vital. He now read aloud and commented on Shakespeare, and at the same time felt transfused into the person of the author during the gestation and creation of the tragedy.

Alberto made a description of Venice first of all, and Veronica sighed:

“How beautiful it must be!” Like a haunted city, right? I already imagine being in it.

Alberto reached the point of the first scene (a street in Venice: night) in which Yago says to Rodrigo: «There is no remedy; such are the perks of the service. Promotion is guided by recommendations and personal affection, not seniority and promotion. Now, sir, judge for yourself whether in justice I am called to love the Moor. ”

Veronica interrupted passionately:

“Natural that he hated the nigger.” I would do the same in your case. You see, poor Iago, who was so brave and had always fought alongside the Moor, and when the opportunity comes to make him lieutenant, he leaves him as a standard-bearer and postpones it in favor of that Cassius, who was apparently stupid, and not he knew nothing of battles. I assure you that injustices have always kindled my blood. Hate the Moor! … More than that: I would not give up until I ruined it and sank it. For these!

Rodrigo says, in response, to Iago: “I would not continue to serve him.”

And Veronica:

-Me neither.

Iago responds: «Follow him for your own benefit. We are not all to be masters, nor are masters always to be served loyally. ” (Veronica: Very good. ) “If it seems that I follow him, it is not out of love or duty, but for my own peculiar purposes.” (Veronica: Something is up.p. 107gro. And see if he is noble and how loyally he says what he thinks. ) Yago induces Rodrigo, Desdemona’s former courtier, to wake up Brabantio, the maiden’s father, and inform him of how she has been kidnapped by the Moor. (Veronica: Come on; well, he had stolen it no less. What a criminal! ) Iago, to Brabantio who has appeared in a window: «Make the clamor of the bell wake up the sleeping citizens, otherwise the devil himself will make grandfather. ” (Veronica: Call the Moor the devil. Iago is funny.) Brabantio does not want to believe that his daughter Desdemona has run away. At last he makes sure that this is true. Iago retires and the old man goes down to the street, where he joins Rodrigo, and, filled with grief, exclaims: «Hey, aren’t there little drinks that upset the brains of youth and even of mature age in such a way that make you lose your will? Have you not read any of this, Rodrigo? » (Veronica: What else could it be? If you don’t understand … )

Second scene; another alley. Iago tells the Moor that Brabantio, the senator, already knows about the abduction of Desdemona, and advises him to beware of the anger of the old man, whom the magistracy he holds and the power he enjoys make fearsome. (Veronica: I like Iago. Do you see how well he conceals? I trust that he will know how to take revenge on the black man. ) Othello: «Let him act according to his spite. The services I rendered to the lordship will speak louder than her complaint … Because it must be known that my life and my being come from people who occupy a royal seat. ” (Veronica: Well, he wasn’t a lucky tramp, as Iago thought. And he speaks with a certain nobility, eh?) Spend a round with torches. Those in the round say that the Doge and the consuls are in council and are looking for Othello. A war with the Ottomans is feared and Othello will be the general. (Verónica: The nigger’s luck is also smooth. ) Another round appears. It is Brabantio and his followers, armed. Brabantio: «Fall on him.p. 108Thief!” (Veronica: And let him say it. Good mess. ) Othello intervenes: «Sheathe your swords, for the dew of the night can mold them. Lord, you have more strength in your years than in your weapons. » (Veronica: He’s also an uncle! ) Brabantio: «Unattended thief, where have you hidden my daughter? You have enchanted me, or else all things are meaningless. Let the world be a judge and say if it is not palpable that with her you have used charms and witchcraft arts, that from her delicate youth you abused with drugs and minerals of those that weaken discernment. ” (Veronica: Let’s see. You can’t understand otherwise. Poor old and poor girl!) They are to go to the hands of both sides. Othello: «Those on my side and those on my side, stop the arm. If fighting were now in my role, I wouldn’t need a prompter. ” (Veronica: That the black man brings them to him. He has a confidence in himself … ) They all leave on their way to the Palace of the Doges, where the Lordship is in counsel.

Scene three. In the Council room. Doge, senators and consuls talk about the war. Brabantio, Othello and entourage arrive. The old man comes forward to present his complaint. Brabantio: «My daughter … She is worse than dead for me. They have seduced me, they have stolen it from me, they have corrupted it with spells and mixtures of those that apoticarios make. Nature cannot err so completely, not being deficient, blind or mutilated of the senses, without the aid of witchcraft. » The Doge: «Whoever has stolen it from you by such low means, that from the bloody book of the law and through your own lips hears the most bitter sentence, and that you interpret it according to your anger. So be it, even if my own son was the culprit. ” (Veronica:If the same were done now … It was a pleasure in those days. I suspect that they will save Iago hassle. ) Brabantio says it was Othello. The senators, who need Othello for the war,p. 109they alarm, and encourage the Moor to exonerate himself. (Veronica, very excited: Let’s see. ) Othello: «My speech is rude, it does not have the gift of soft gentle phrases, because since these my arms had the vigor of seven years until no more than nine moons ago only I lived in battle and in camps. ” But, nevertheless, Othello will explain, as best he can, the way he had made Desdemona fall in love. (Veronica: Pal cat.) They send for Desdemona. Meanwhile, Othello speaks: “Your father and I were friends. He invited me to his home frequently and asked me to tell him the story of my fortunes, sites, and battles that I had to win. I related my entire life to him, from my childhood days, to his entire pleasure and mood. I told him about disastrous adventures and exciting accidents on land and at sea; of grave dangers in which I freed by a hair, on the mortal breach; of how I was captured by the insolent enemy and sold into slavery; of my liberation and my long days; of huge caverns and barren deserts; of the rough subways and of the rocks and mountains whose temples touch the sky (I spoke, I spoke, this was all); of cannibals who devour each other; of cannibals and other men whose heads are born below the shoulders. And hearing me, Desdemona who was present, bowed meditatively. Sometimes she ran away, because household needs required her. But he returned quickly and with a solicitous ear he devoured my speech. As I observed it, I took a favorable hour to my account and succeeded in getting her to pray to me in her heart that what she had heard me tell her in full. I consented, and not a few times I enjoyed her tears as I recounted some disastrous blow that my youth had suffered. Such is my story. In return for my pains I gave myself a world of sobs. I swore that my story was strange, very strange, worthy of mercy, wonderful I took a favorable hour to my account and managed to get her to pray to me in her heart that what she had heard me tell her in full. I consented, and not a few times I enjoyed her tears as I recounted some disastrous blow that my youth had suffered. Such is my story. In return for my pains I gave myself a world of sobs. I swore that my story was strange, very strange, worthy of mercy, wonderful I took a favorable hour to my account and managed to get her to pray to me in her heart that what she had heard me tell her in full. I consented, and not a few times I enjoyed her tears as I recounted some disastrous blow that my youth had suffered. Such is my story. In return for my pains I gave myself a world of sobs. I swore that my story was strange, very strange, worthy of mercy, wonderfulp. 110mind worthy of pity. She wished she hadn’t heard her, and she wanted the heavens to have made her a man and be like me. She begged me that if a friend of mine loved her, I would teach her to tell my story, and that only for this she would reciprocate … She loved me for my misadventures; I loved her for having felt sorry for them. No other were the arts of enchantment that I employed. Here comes the lady. Let her be a witness. ” (Veronica’s eyes are wet: Wait a minute. Don’t read any more. Pause. Go on. ) The Dogo: “The story would have won the heart of my own daughter too.” (Veronica: And mineDesdemona enters. His father asks who before anyone else he obeys from those who are present. Desdemona: “Here is my husband, and as my mother put you before her father, I profess the faith that unites me with the Moor.” (Verónica: How nice.) Brabantio is desolate. The consolations that the Doge tries to give him in sweet words do not alleviate his pain, because, says the old man: “I do not know that the broken heart is healed through the ears.” Then there is talk of the war in Cyprus. The Senate appoints Othello as governor general of the square. Desdemona begs to be allowed to go with the Moor; that if she loved him it was to live in his company: “His face for me is in his soul.” Othello supports her. The Senate agrees. Othello leaves for Cyprus immediately and leaves Desdemona entrusted to Iago and his wife to be taken to the island, the sooner the better. First of Othello leaving, Brabantio tells him: «Look at her, Moor, if you have eyes in your face. He deceived his father and he will deceive you. ” (Veronica: I would think the same in my father’s shoes. And I would even wish it. )

Last scene of the act. Yago and Rodrigo are alone.

Having lost Desdemona forever makes Rodrigo’s heart bitter in terms ofp. 111is to kill himself. Iago calls him a fool: “I have not yet found a man who knows how to love himself.” Rodrigo confesses that he does not have the virtue of overcoming a disgruntled love. “Virtue?” Asks Iago … “A hoot.” Iago makes some very wise moral considerations, which Veronica approves with signs of assent. He advises the inexperienced Rodrigo: « Come, be a man. Be a man. Put money in your pocket. Enlist in this campaign, disfiguring your face with distorted beards. Put money and more money in your pocket. Wait for Desdemona to have had enough of the Moor, who will be fed up. Stuff your pocket with money. Look for money, money, money. Therefore make money.”Say goodbye, and Iago talks to himself. He hates the Moor, not only because he received great injustice from him, but also because “it is said from the public,” Yago murmurs, “that between the sheets his person supplanted mine in my conjugal bed.” Iago plans his revenge. The instrument will be Miguel Casio, the lieutenant, who is gentle and on purpose so that the ladies like him. Iago will poison Othello’s heart with jealousy, making him believe that Desdemona and Cassius have loved and love each other. And he ends: “Hell and night will show this monstrous monstrosity in the light of day.”

There was a break. Veronica was angry in a deep armchair; the legs, gathered on the seat. An evil glow lit his eyes. Alberto said, for making him speak:

“Truly, this Iago is a wretch.”

-Thanks man; in your case I would like to see you. First they make him cuckold, and then, on cuckold, they beat him, as they say. What the hell! Let me die if that man does not speak in everything like a book. Virtue … A cumin is given to me for virtue. What is virtue for, do you want to tell me? Money, money and money; that’s the chipén. Didn’t you sayp. 112same a bit ago? Say that we are always fooling each other, and ourselves, and we dare not say what we think, and that man has the courage to say it, and it turns out that the rags that he brings up are those that we all carry inside. And, above all, that he hated the Moor; yes, he hated it. Have you never felt hatred, what is called hatred? I do, sometimes, the same as that man feels it. And do you know who? You will figure that against the enemies. Bah! I do not have them. Do not; against my mother, against my sisters, against my friends. Say that it would pass quickly, and, furthermore, that I am a coward; but what a pleasure sometimes to do as much evil as one would like!

-Yes you’re right. The bad person is Othello.

“It seems a lie that you say that.” One only has to hear him speak to understand his heart, which does not fit in his chest. It seems that he is like a child … And bravo … You see, they make him general in chief, so, for something will be. Which apparently he had or did not have with Emilia, Iago’s wife. Who is free from a peccadillo? Besides that maybe it is a mess that they have raised, because in the world there is every language, boy …

“Perhaps it was a false testimony.” But, of all luck, it is not conceivable that Desdemona has fallen in love with him. The poor creature acted hallucinated; but he will realize his mistake, he will disgust the Moor …

-Why? Veronica cut in. What do you men know about these things? Desdemona is in love with Othello; but like this, mochales, I tell you. Couldn’t! Do you think a man like Othello meets every day? Well, let it be taken away from you. If he makes one cry when he talks … To feel hugged by him, so big, so man, so loyal and so innocent … But how could he not love him or is it possible?p. 113liable to get tired of it? Don’t you understand?

“Yes, I understand now.” What I don’t understand is how the beast of the father was opposed in that way …

“You have everything too, boy.” It seems that you insist on closing your eyes. A girl like Desdemona, so blonde and so pretty, and so homely that she was scared of men, and she goes and runs off with a horrible black man … Let’s see. Who gave him a concoction. It is clear as light. That’s how he didn’t escape by running her off and being free, because sometimes these girls who seem silly give every disappointment … I tell you that I, their father, give him a hand of spanking! …

“But are you speaking by putting yourself in the father’s case or on your own?”

“Naturally on my own.”

“As you told me the opposite before …”

-Hey?

Veronica’s ideas and feelings were weakened at this time. I was astonished and filled with anguish. Alberto had been cautiously inducing her to speak, enjoying seeing how the girl successively assimilated the spirit of each character in the drama until she was oblivious of herself and living their lives for a point. Veronica’s soul seemed to Alberto as plastic and tender as the paradise clay between Jehovah’s fingers.

“Something serious is going to happen!” Veronica spoke. Keep reading. Oh! What did you start for? I’m scared, but it doesn’t matter, keep reading. Something serious has to happen, I feel it, I feel it inside me, like horses smell the storm. Yes, that’s it, the storm. It seems to me as if I were in the field, after a long drought, and that I had been very ill and had already gotten up to convalesce, and needed the sun and good weather to heal;p. 114and if it rains, I will surely die; and if it does not rain, the harvests do not occur and all the peasants die; and a little cloud appears, very tiny, there in the distance; and suddenly the sky turns purple, and there is a storm that devastates the fields, ruins the farmers and kills me. Who is guilty? Nobody, because God cannot be blamed for anything. Nobody, but everyone suffers, everyone cries … It is terrible. Sorry to talk so much … I need to vent. You can continue reading: keep on, keep on.

Act two. On the island of Cyprus. The storm has capsized the Turkish fleet. There will be no war. The islanders are on the embankments of the shore, gazing out at the rough sea. Lieutenant Casio, Desdemona, with Iago and his wife Emilia, and Othello arrive on the island with good fortune. A proclamation by Othello is read in the streets, to the beat of the drum, ordering public rejoices and music in celebration of his betrothal to Desdemona. Yago and Rodrigo agree to disturb Cassius’s brain, with liquors, while they are on duty, and seeing him drunk that Rodrigo provokes him in such a way that a clamorous dispute arises and costs Cassius his rank of lieutenant. They successfully carry out the plan. At the height of the fight Cassius is being inducted into, Iago rings the bells at the gun, It startles the people and forces Othello to leave his bed to go to the scene of the fight, with such anger that he immediately strips Cassius of his lieutenant dignity. They are left alone Iago and Cassio, who laments bitterly. Iago: “Are you hurt, Cassius?” Cassius: “Yes, and there is no surgeon to save me.” Iago: “God forbid.” Cassius: «My good name! My good name! My good name! I have lost my good name. I have lost the immortal part that was in me, and I am left with only that of the beast. My good name, Iago, my good name! (Veronica: My good name! My good name! I have lost my good name. I have lost the immortal part that was in me, and I am left with only that of the beast. My good name, Iago, my good name! (Veronica: My good name! My good name! I have lost my good name. I have lost the immortal part that was in me, and I am left with only that of the beast. My good name, Iago, my good name! (Veronica:Poor Cassius. Perp. 115given the good name, what remains? Tell me about it. ) Iago: «On my honor I swear that I thought of some damage to the body; These are more serious than those received in the opinion of others. A good name is the most foolish and false imposture; win the most times without merits and lose yourself without guilt. No one loses his good name if he does not give it up himself. ” (Verónica: Cabal, what the hell, I also say. And if not, look at all those ladies, La Pantana, La Cercedilla, who give us a hundred and one line to those of the trade. Brave fool the one who takes care of what they will say. last minute, that they take away what they danced.) Iago shows Cassius the way where he once again reaches the favor of the general, and is to intercede near Desdemona, beg her, move her with compassion, because Othello’s will is a toy in the hands of his wife. Casio is very grateful to him.

As Verónica did not open her lips at the end of the act, Alberto continued.

Act three. Emilia, on the advice of her husband, arranges an interview for Cassius with Desdemona, in the castle park. Cassius begs. Desdemona promises him that he will be reinstated in the lost position. Desdemona: «I will not leave Othello alone on the table or on the bed, until I get it. At every step I take I will put Casio’s request before him. ” Othello and Iago appear. Cassius who sees them, withdraws. Iago: “I don’t like that.” Othello: “What?” Iago: “Let Cassius turn away in such a way that it seems only that he has done something wrong.” Desdemona approaches her husband and speaks to him on behalf of Casio, begging him to call him and reconcile with him. Othello delays the answer. Desdemona harasses him with fervent entreaties. Othello seems to give in. Yago and Othello are left alone. Jealousy begins to disturb the heart of Othello, who interrogates Iago, and he dodges answering. Othello: «It seems that in your mind there is a monster so disgusting that it dares not show itself top. 116the light.” Iago continues to use subterfuges that inflame Othello’s concerns. “Tell me what you think clearly, dressing bad thoughts with bad words.” Iago pretends to refuse: “My duty does not oblige me to say that even slaves are free: to speak what you think.” The restlessness of the Moor grows. Iago: «Beware, sir, of jealousy! Hellish minutes those of one who caresses doubt in time; who suspects and yet loves madly. ” Othello: «No, Iago. I must not doubt without seeing. I doubt? I want the evidence. Do I have proof? Well, there is nothing but to conclude with love or jealousy. ” That being the case, Iago has no qualms about speaking clearly, and advises Othello not to lose sight of Desdemona and Cassius and keep in mind how simulatory women are, even Desdemona herself, who pretended to his father to be afraid of the Moor when he had already determined the escape. A moment when Othello is alone, he thinks: «Why did I get married? This good man, Iago, has seen and knows much more than he says. ” Iago returns: «It is true that Casio has been a good lieutenant and deserves to be one again. But the best thing for now is to keep him degraded and see if Desdemona pursues his cause too vehemently. This would be a great clue. ” Alone again Othello, saw himself possessed of a great disturbance. Desdemona is coming. Othello, grumpy, says he has a headache. Desdemona, very solicitous, tries to bandage his head with a handkerchief, a handkerchief that Othello had given her exhorting her to always keep it. Othello removes the handkerchief, which falls to the ground without being seen by one or the other. Stand back. Emilia picks up the handkerchief and gives it to Iago, who had already repeatedly begged her to steal it from Desdemona. Othello and Iago meet again. Jealousy tortures the Moor. He has lost his tranquility: «He who is robbed of what he does notp. 117If you can’t find out, it’s as if it hadn’t been stolen. If all the soldiers in the camp had enjoyed her sweet body, ignoring me, I would be happy. But now, goodbye forever peace of mind! Goodbye joy! Farewell, tufted troops in waged wars that make a virtue out of ambition! Goodbye, goodbye, everything! ” Jealousy turns momentarily into anger: “Villain, prove to me that the woman I love is a fox, give me the eye test, or you’d better be a dog.” Iago affirms that he has heard Cassius talking and kissing Desdemona in his dreams, lamenting that she was the Moor’s wife, and all in such a way that he seemed to show hidden and guilty intelligence between one and the other. Othello is the victim of fatal anger: “I will undo it with my hands.” Iago talks about the handkerchief and that he thought he saw it in the possession of Cassius. Othello: «Blood! Blood! Blood!” Othello will take revenge; He wants Cassius to be murdered within three days.

Having noticed the loss of the handkerchief, Desdemona receives great disappointment and is anxious to recover it. So he sees his wife, the first thing the Moor does is ask for the handkerchief. Desdemona supposes that this is a trick of Othello to prevent his wife from resuming the supplications in favor of Cassius, and thus he is determined to reiterate them with particular determination, and while the Moor, with increasing frenzy, demands the handkerchief, the handkerchief, Desdemona does not he takes it into account and responds with praise from Cassius, until Othello leaves full of fury, and convinced of Desdemona’s guilt.

Iago has put the handkerchief in Casio’s room, who, as he finds it, gives it to his lover Blanca.

When this act was finished, Verónica, without detaching her lips, stared at Alberto with a diffuse, empty pupil, as if she were looking at him and did not see him. Duringp. 118In this act, his interpellations and glosses had been more succinct and spaced than at the beginning of the work, and they tended to interjection or emotional shout without logical content, where it was easy to notice that instead of being interpenetrated and substantiated, successively, with each one of the dramatic people, as in the first two acts he had done, stood apart and above, monopolized by a sense of the whole; Instead of living the different individual passions one after the other, she now lived in her own heart the expectant emotion of conflict and clash of the other people’s passions, which were well known to her and she knew that they would work fatally because she had experienced them in herself. in the preceding acts. Veronica had transcended from lyrical emotion to dramatic emotion, from the tragedy of the inner man to the tragedy of men among themselves; And just as in the first act he had felt that, in the mystery of his soul, every man is just and good, even the one who does not seem so, because his intentions and conduct are followed by subtle impulses, as necessary laws, so Veronica now also sensed that the events that interweave history and from which men receive pleasure, pain, exaltation, glory, ruin, are as they should be, the product of fatal elements in fatal proportions.

Such was the interpretation that Alberto gave to Verónica’s emotions. Veronica was for him the Rosetta table of the Egyptologists, the key with which to decipher hieroglyphics. He considered, with sudden intuition, the difference between Great Art, the spontaneous flowering of the human spirit and organism that lives by itself, and base and self-righteous art, a clumsy artifice, not art, and he understood that the essential difference was difference. of moral conception and not of technique. These two arts were symbolically incarnated.p. 119ticos in two literary genres, tragedy and melodrama. The true artist — whatever lineage he is, sculptor, painter, musician, poet — harbors in his mind and hears in his great heart the germs and echoes of universal tragedy. And the tragic spirit is nothing but the clear understanding of everything created, the cordial justification of everything that exists. For the tragic spirit there is no badborn of free will, there are no crimes, but misfortunes, calamitous actions; Each new act called voluntary is the last point added to a line that is continually prolonged, slave to its rigid nature: everything is fair. In this way, the conflict of tragedy, like that of life, is a conflict of goodness with goodness and rectitude against rectitude, a conflagration of opposite and just acts: just because they have a sufficient reason. And from here comes that cosmic, sidereal gravitation that presses on the chest of the spectator of a good tragedy, as of everyone who is before a work of Great Art. On the contrary, the melodramatic spirit invents free evil, creates the traitor, plans conflicts between good and bad, tries to modify the straight line of steel, autonomous and aggressive, turning it into an arbitrary curve, and finally engenderssentimentality , contagious and fatal morbid. The sculptural, pictorial, musical and poetic works of Pharisaic and base art reveal their sentimentality as a stigma of the melodramatic spirit. And Alberto formulated in his conscience this inordinate question: «The spirit of the race to which I belong and the historical life of this nation in whose womb I was born, are they tragic or melodramatic? Am I a daytime actor and person, dignity and decorum incorporated into the wealth of human tragedy, or am I a puppet in a tearful and grotesque farce? ”

“Go on for God, Alberto, go on for God,” begged Veronica.

p. 120Alberto continued translating:

Iago presses with diligent cunning the network of intrigues around Othello, inflames him, obfuscates him, suffocates him. The Moor, troubled by the passion of jealousy, fails to proceed carefully, allows himself to be deceived by futile appearances, acquires the fallacious certainty that Desdemona has been disloyal to the sworn faith, is mad with anger and thirsty for revenge. So he sees Desdemona the insult, he calls her a prostitute once and a hundred times, maddened with love and pain, victim and executioner at the same time. Sweet Desdemona! Poor blond girl, also lover and suffering, victim and executioner too, without knowing it! She hardly dares to oppose the dictates of her husband’s meek and pleading complaint, to which the enraged Moor, taking it as a rameril device, replies at every point with the word prostitute.. And when he retired, Othello premeditated the bitter penalty with which to punish Desdemona’s supposed adultery.

Veronica was pacing the room. Nerves did not allow her to remain still. Sometimes he would stop behind Alberto and diligently scrutinize the English original, with a gesture of religious suspension, thinking that just as in the mind of God the course of coming events is found in a fatal figure, in those arcane signs of the book they were kept in germ and about to sprout alive the destinies of the characters that brought it so badly.

“He’s going to kill her, he’s going to kill her!” My heart gives it to me, ”Veronica sobs, wringing her hands.

Desdemona’s heart also suggests dark forebodings. He has ordered his lady Emilia to make a bed for him with the sheets for the wedding day. “If I died before you, Emilia, cushion me in one of these sheets.” Desdemona sings because she is sad: she sings the song of the willow, an old song that she heard, as a child, from the lips of an old womanp. 121maid, Barbara, whom the groom had abandoned, who died singing this song. At the end of singing, Desdemona suddenly asks Emilia, with adorable candor: “Do you think, Emilia, that there are such women, as they say, who are unfaithful to their husbands?” (Veronica: The truth is that it seems impossible. ) Desdemona: “No, there cannot be a woman capable of doing such a thing.”

Here is the bedroom. Desdemona sleeps. A light burns. Sneak in Othello.

Veronica is facing Alberto, rigid, somewhat pale, her eyes wide under her frowning eyebrows, looking at his lips.

Othello leans over Desdemona to watch her as she sleeps. How beautiful she is! And her dream, how candid! Othello: «Oh, sweet breath; you almost persuade justice to break their sword! A kiss, and another, and another. ” Othello kisses her and cries. Desdemona awake. Othello asks her if she has prayed, because he is going to kill her. Desdemona: “Kill me?” Othello: “Yes.” Desdemona: “Then God have mercy on me.” Othello: “Amen, with all my heart.” Desdemona: «I am afraid; I do not know why I am afraid, because I am innocent; but I’m afraid.” Othello: “Think of your sins.” Desdemona: “My sins are but love.” Othello: “That is why you will die.”

At this moment Verónica pounced on Alberto, snatched the book from his hands and sent him flying through the air. He was crying, putting his hands to his face; she kicked and between the hiccups of crying she stammered:

“No, I don’t want him to kill her, I don’t want him to kill her, I don’t want him to kill her!” Oh my God, Alberto! Tell that man that he is wrong, that Desdemona is good and loves him … Poor girl, poor girl! By God, by God! But is there no way to fix it? What has to be, I fully understand! Yesp. 122That man is crazy! And she cried when he kissed her … haven’t you seen? Poor, poor Othello! It had to be; I already said it. What are we going to do to him? What do we gain by closing our eyes? He must have already killed her, huh? Did he kill her already? I do not want to see it. Did he kill her already? He would ask in a wild accent, as if the drama scene had a historical and independent life, and had continued to unfold as she gave herself up to despair.

“Yes, he already killed her, Veronica.”

-As was? Do you know

“Yes, he strangled her.”

“And what did she say?”

“He said:” I am innocent, “and later, to Emilia who goes:” I have killed myself. Beg Othello to forgive me. Goodbye.”

-Goodbye! Veronica dropped to the foot of an armchair and leaned her head back on the seat, hiding it in her arms.