Bell for Adano, A - John Hersey [92]
Gargano the Two-Hands made two circles with his thumbs and forefingers and put the circles up to his eyes and peered through them at the picture. He said: “The eyes. On the whole, the face is good, but the eyes: it seems to me the eyes are not quite the eyes of the Mister Major.”
Old Lojacono said: “The portrait is not yet finished.” D’Arpa the Vice Mayor said in his little weasel’s voice: “Should the nose seem to recline on the mustache in such comfort? I think that nose is asleep.”
The old painter said: “It is not finished
Saitta, the clean one, the man concerned with keeping the town fresh, held his white suit close to him so as not to get any driblets of paint on it and said: “Could not the background be cleaned up a little?”
The white-haired painter turned on his critics and said: “It is not finished. It is not finished. It is not finished. Can you get that through your thick official skulls?”
D’Arpa, in his capacity as senior official on the spot, took it upon himself to say: “We are not deaf, Lojacono. We are here on behalf of the town of Adano to see that you finish this portrait well and make it good enough for its purpose.”
Gargano lifted his shoulders and stretched his hands out, palms up, as if to say what he did say: “We mean no offense, old man.” Then he made motions of painting and said: “Go ahead, old man.”
Lojacono went back to his work. He grumbled as he dabbed. “Now for the first time in months,” he said, “I have a subject of which I wish to make a superior painting. What happens? I get into my work, I begin to love it, my brush seems deft in my hand. Then what happens? Officials visit me, men who know less about art than I do about cleaning streets” - he said this with great contempt and Saitta the street-cleaner drew his white suit a little closer around him, as if he suspected that the angry old man might flick a blob of pigment at him - “and they criticize my work, though it is not finished.”
Gargano made the two circles again and said: “I merely pointed out that the eyes are not yet those of the Mister Major.”
D’Arpa said: “I simply said that the nose looks comfortable, perhaps a trifle too comfortable, perhaps even asleep.”
Saitta said: “To suggest that the background might be cleaned up a little is not to criticize the likeness.” Lojacono said: “I told you that the painting is not finished. When it is done, I promise that you will like it - D’Arpa said in his -high voice: “It is more important that the Mister Major should like it.”
The old painter said: “He will, I promise it.” Gargano placed both hands over his heart and said: “He must, old man, or else the whole point of our presenting it to him will be destroyed. Do you know why we are giving it to him?”
Lojacono said wearily: “Yes, I know why you are giving it to him.”
Gargano had not expected the old man to answer his rhetorical question. He took his hands off his heart and said: “Well then...”
The white-haired painter turned again toward the three men. “Well then, he said, “why don’t you leave me alone so that I can put into the painting what you feel toward this man?”
Gargano started to make the circles and said doubtfully: “The eyes -”
The painter said: “The eyes are not finished. Neither is the tired nose. Neither is the dirty background. I might explain to you, street-cleaner, that I use the background as the place to test my colors. Do I come to you with suggestions as to how to remove horse-manure from the streets?”
Saitta tugged on his suit and said grudgingly: “No-o-o .” Lojacono said again: “Well then,” and turned to his painting.
And then the old man said, as if to the face in the photograph: “This is a portrait I wish to make as nearly good as my talents will allow. There are many things I hope this painting will have - when it is finished.” He said this last grimly, for the benefit of his critics.
He went on to tell what he was trying to achieve in this