But the bride spoke. Without any ferocity, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she said: ‘Uncle, the chest is for you.’

I had to fight for my life on my own. This, too, I divined. I had the feeling of being able to make a huge effort without anyone’s noticing it. Just as I had earlier sensed in myself an organ that enabled me to win over my judge without speaking, so I discovered within me another organ – what it was I don’t know – with which to fight without moving and thus to attack my unthreatened adversaries. And the effort paid off right away. Here was Giovanni, fat Giovanni, sitting in the bright glass chest on a wooden stool similar to mine and in the same position as me. He was hunched over, the chest being too low, and had his glasses in his hands so they wouldn’t fall off his nose. But that way he sort of looked as if he were working on a deal and had taken off his glasses to think better without seeing anything. And, in fact, although he was sweaty and out of breath, instead of thinking about his coming death, he was full of malice, as you could tell from his eyes, in which I caught sight of the same effort I had made shortly before. So, because I feared him, I was unable to take pity on him.

Giovanni’s effort paid off as well. Shortly thereafter, Alberi, the tall, slender and healthy Alberi, was in his spot in the chest, in the same position as Giovanni had been in but made worse by the size of his body. He was altogether bent double and would really have aroused compassion in me had there not also been in him, in addition to agitation, great malice. He was looking me up and down, with an evil smile, knowing that not dying in that chest depended on him alone.

From on top of the chest, the bride spoke again: ‘Now it’s your turn, of course, Uncle.’ She stressed each syllable with great pedantry. And her words were accompanied by another sound, very distant, very much from on high. From that long-lasting sound, let out by a person moving quickly away, I could tell that the cave ended in a steep corridor that led to the surface of the earth. It was a single hiss, but a hiss of approval, and it was coming from Anna, who was once again showing her hatred for me. She didn’t have the courage to put it in words, because I had in fact convinced her she had wronged me more than I had wronged her. But when it comes to hatred conviction counts for nothing.

I was condemned by everybody. A long way from me, somewhere in the cave, waiting, my wife and the doctor were pacing back and forth, and I sensed that my wife had a resentful appearance. She was moving her hands energetically, reciting my wrongs. Wine, food and my brusque manners with her and with my daughter.