The Coming of Fabrizze: A Novel (Black Squirrel Books) by Raymond Decapite

Turn around. Put the fork down. All right, that’s enough. It isn’t right, it isn’t right. Well, Fabrizze, you see how stout and solid she is? She’s made for a grand effort, as they say. The girl is ambitious, I tell you. She’ll drag you higher and higher. Think about her.”
    Later that week Cardino took Fabrizze home to have a look at Teresa. Teresa had silver bells on a bracelet and when attention drifted away she would touch her black hair and the little bells would ring. Cardino kept turning to look at her. She would be watching Fabrizze.
    â€œHave a care,” said Cardino. He was shaped like a cask for wine and it was very nearly the truth of the matter. “Have a care with my niece,” he was saying. “The girl is dangerous.”
    â€œWho can doubt it?” said Fabrizze.
    Teresa rang her little bells.
    â€œCome into the cellar,” she said. “Such golden hair you have! Your skin is like milk. And those eyes! Come along and we’ll draw a bit of wine. I’m frightened of the mice down there.”
    â€œA curse on those mice,” said Cardino.
    Teresa took the hand of Fabrizze as though to hide him for later delight. She led him down the steep ladder stairway into the cellar. Suddenly the cellar door closed and they were alone in the winy darkness. Little bells were tinkling.
    â€œWhere is the light?” said Fabrizze.
    â€œIn those eyes,” said Teresa.
    â€œA bit of light,” said Fabrizze.
    Soft hands were fumbling at his throat. An arm circled his neck. Teresa whispered in a way that seemed to singe his ear.
    â€œLight, light!” he said.
    He was plucked off the ladder and given a strong sweet kiss. He struggled free. A moment later Teresa captured him and kissed even harder to make sure. He pulled away. He blundered against the barrels. Somehow he made it to the ladder. He crawled up and started to lift the door. It closed down on him. Again there was darkness and the fragrance of the girl and the little bells.
    â€œStay, Fabrizze, stay!” cried Cardino. “She’ll show you the black bottles I buried! Wine five years old! Drink up! Hold your own with her! The house is yours! My wife went to a funeral!”
    â€œPlease open up!” said Fabrizze.
    â€œDrink, my boy, drink!” cried Cardino. “A night to remember! A night like this and the world owes you nothing! Stay then!”
    Fabrizze heard the bells. The ladder was shaking. An urgent hand closed round his left ankle. He put his back to the cellar door and lifted. He lifted Cardino who was standing on top of it. Cardino fell back against the wall. He was trying to control a glass of wine.
    â€œNot a drop,” he was saying. “I didn’t lose a drop.”
    â€œBravo,” said Fabrizze.
    â€œTell me the truth now,” said Cardino. “What do you make of the child? Speak the truth.”
    â€œShe’s fully grown, be sure of it,” said Fabrizze.
    â€œI admit she’s a bit forward,” said Cardino. “But it’s only when someone strikes her fancy. It’s the passion of youth, my boy. A husband will do it.”
    â€œOr two,” said Fabrizze.
    â€œGo back down a little,” said Cardino. “Listen then. Do you hear the bells? I hear them all the time, I swear it!”
    â€œI don’t hear anything,” said Fabrizze. “She stopped ringing.”
    â€œHow innocent you are,” said Cardino. “Those little bells are everywhere, my boy, and they trouble us till we die. Why is it so hard to make plans? A curse on the bells!”
    The bells rang louder on the night that Bassetti took Fabrizze to visit a widow called Lena. Lena sat there in the kitchen beside a blazing coal stove. Her plump hands were on her knees. She kept her piercing black eyes on Fabrizze. He broke into a sweat. He looked from Lena to the stove. He turned to Bassetti for help.
    Bassetti spoke at length of his wit