Bell for Adano, A - John Hersey [36]
“Yes, Mister Major.”
This is how it happened that Mayor Nasta reported once every morning to Sergeant Borth at the Fascio. Because four or five people followed the Mayor everywhere he went out of curiosity and hatred, there was a small audience on hand the next morning when he reported to Sergeant Borth for the first time. The audience enjoyed what it saw and heard, for this kind of situation was meat for Sergeant Borth, who thought the whole war was a joke.
The tattered Nasta stepped into one of the M.P. offices, rearranged his pince-nez, and said: “Where will I find the Sergeant Borth?”
“I am Borth.”
“I am Nasta.”
“Oho,” roared Sergeant Borth. He stood up, rubbing his hands. “So you are the Mayor. I understand that you have come to Adano to repent your sins. Is that right, noble Mayor?”
“I was told that I was to report here each morning. I was to report, not be humiliated, Sergeant.”
“You will call me Mister Sergeant.”
Mayor Nasta snorted, from his long habit of snorting. Borth said sharply: “Listen, Nasta, I know more about you than you know about yourself. You be careful how you behave here. Now, answer my questions civilly. Is it correct that you came to Adano to repent your sins?” Mayor Nasta was white with anger, but he said: “I suppose you might say so.”
“Thank you,” Borth said with exaggerated politeness. “In that case you will repent one sin each morning when you report to Sergeant Borth. Would you like to choose your own sins, or would you like Sergeant Borth to choose them for you?”
Mayor Nasta couldn’t keep himself from snorting. “I see,” said Borth, with his over-politeness, “you would like Borth to choose. Very well, let’s see. This morning we will discuss the sin of your disgraceful running away from your post in the face of the American invasion. What is this sin called, Mayor Nasta?”
“What do you mean, what is it called?”
“You are at a loss for words? Very well, Borth will answer his own question. It is called the sin of cowardice.” Mayor Nasta snorted.
“No matter what side you were on, no matter if you were on the side of the crooks, it was a sin to run away, was it not, Mayor?”
Mayor Nasta rearranged his pince-nez with a trembling hand.
“Answer my question: did you or did you not give rifles to the Carabinieri and grenades to the Finance Guards, make them a beautiful speech about fighting to the last man, and then run to the hills?”
Mayor Nasta said with a trembling voice: “You tell me, clever Sergeant.”
Sergeant Borth shouted: “Answer me, probationer.” Mayor Nasta said quietly: “I did, Sergeant.” “Mister Sergeantl”
“I did, Mister Sergeant
“Are you sorry for this disgraceful sin, Nasta?” Mayor Nasta could hear the people snickering behind him.
He said meekly: “I am, Mister Sergeant.” Borth said: “All right, then, you may go.”
The small audience who heard this first repentance told their friends about it, so that the next morning there was a larger crowd in front of Sergeant Borth’s office when Mayor Nasta reported.
On the second morning, Sergeant Borth made Mayor Nasta repent for the sin of having had such a big house in this poor town, and for having hoarded money, which was hidden in a mattress in the house, and for being a grafter.
On the third morning, the Sergeant made him repent for being a Fascist, and for having been, as a young man, a member of the Segretaria Federale di Roma.
On the fourth morning, the Sergeant made him repent for the sin of having fought for Franco in Spain, not gallantly, to be sure, but for having fought at all.
On the fifth morning, the Sergeant made him repent for the sin of having taken cuts on the fish market, the bakeries, and the vegetable market, and for stealing twenty-five per cent of the city impost tax.
On the sixth morning, the Sergeant made him repent for the sin of offering to be a spy for the Americans if Sergeant Borth would just stop making him repent.
On the seventh morning, the Sergeant made him repent for having forced his will on two young girls of the town.
And so, day after day, the repentances went. And every day the crowd