The Sicilian - Mario Puzo [167]
Pisciotta laughed. “What would I do in America? I’ll take my chances here. Once Guiliano is gone, they won’t look so hard for me, and the mountains are deep.”
The Don said solicitously, “You still have troubles with your lungs? You still get your medicine?”
“Yes,” Pisciotta said. “That isn’t a problem. The chances are that my lungs will never get the chance to kill me.” He grinned at Don Croce.
“Let’s talk Sicilian together,” the Don said gravely. “When we are children, when we are young, it is natural to love our friends, to be generous to them, to forgive their faults. Each day is fresh, we look forward to the future with pleasure and without fear. The world itself is not so dangerous; it is a happy time. But as we grow old and have to earn our bread, friendship does not endure so easily. We must always be on our guard. Our elders no longer look after us, we are no longer content with those simple pleasures of children. Pride grows in us—we wish to become great or powerful or rich, or simply to guard ourselves against misfortune. I know how much you love Turi Guiliano, but now you must ask yourself, what is the price of this love? And after all these years does it still exist or is it just the memory that exists?” He waited for Pisciotta to make an answer, but Pisciotta looked at him with a face stonier than the rocks on the Cammarata Mountains and as white. For Pisciotta’s face had gone very pale.
Don Croce went on. “I cannot permit Guiliano to live or escape. If you remain faithful to him then you, too, are my enemy. Know this. With Guiliano gone, you cannot remain alive in Sicily without my protection.”
Pisciotta said, “Turi’s Testament is safe with his friends in America. If you kill him that Testament will become public and the government will fall. A new government may force you to retire to your farm here in Villaba or even worse.”
The Don chuckled. Then roared with laughter. He said with contempt, “Have you read this famous Testament?”
“Yes,” Pisciotta said, bewildered by the Don’s reaction.
“I have not,” the Don said. “But I have decided to act as if it does not exist.”
Pisciotta said, “You ask me to betray Guiliano. What makes you think that is possible?”
Don Croce smiled. “You warned me about his attack on my hotel. That was an act of friendship?”
“I did that for Guiliano, not for you,” Pisciotta said. “Turi is no longer rational. He plans to kill you. Once you are dead, then I know there is no longer hope for any of us. The Friends of the Friends will never rest until we are dead, Testament or no Testament. He could have been out of the country days ago but he lingers, hoping to get his revenge and your life. I came to this meeting to make an arrangement with you. Guiliano will leave this country within the next few days, he will end his vendetta with you. Let him go.”
Don Croce leaned back from his plate of food on the table. He sipped his glass of wine. “You’re being childish,” he said. “We have come to the end of the history. Guiliano is too dangerous to remain alive. But I cannot kill him. I must live in Sicily—I cannot kill its greatest hero and do the things I must do. Too many people love Guiliano, too many of his followers will seek revenge for his death. It must be the carabinieri to do the job. That is how it must be arranged. And you are the only one who can lead Guiliano into such a trap.” He paused for a moment and then said deliberately, “The end of your world has come. You can stay with it through its destruction or you can step out of that world and live in another.”
Pisciotta said, “I could be under the protection of Christ, but I wouldn’t live long if it was known that I betrayed Guiliano.”
“You have only to tell me where you are meeting him again,” Don Croce said. “No one else will know. I will arrange things with Colonel