Alessandro Baricco - The Young Bride

Tell my son that the night is over.

He died just as the sun rose above the horizon, and there was no death rattle, no movement, only a breath like so many others, the last.

The young Bride looked for a heartbeat, in the body she was holding in her arms, and didn’t find it. So she ran the palm of her hand over the Father’s face to close his eyes, in a gesture that has forever been the privilege of the living. Then she opened the small book with the blue cover again, and continued reading. She had no doubt that the Father would have liked that, and in some passages she felt that no funeral oration could have been more apt. She didn’t stop until the end, and, reaching the last sentence, she read it very slowly, as if to protect herself from the risk of its breaking.

Four years later — as I happened to write days ago, in my mind, while I was staring, without seeing it, at a sea that I will nevermore abandon — a man with an anomalous fascination appeared at the brothel; his simple clothes were elegant and he possessed a strong, unnatural calm. He crossed the salon almost without looking around, and stopped confidently in front of the young Bride, who, sitting on a chaise longue, a champagne flute in her hand, was listening with amusement to the confessions of a retired minister.

Seeing him, the young Bride narrowed her eyes slightly. Then she got up.

She stared at the man’s face, the lean features, the long hair pulled back, the beard that framed his lips, slightly parted.

You, she said.

The Son took the champagne flute away from her and offered it to the retired minister, without a word. Then he took the young Bride by the hand and led her away with him.

Emerging into the street, they stopped a moment, to breathe the sparkling air of evening. All of life lay ahead.

The Son took off his jacket, which was of a rough wool and an enchanting color, and placed it over the young Bride’s shoulders. Then, without the slightest hint of rebuke, and in an almost childlike tone of curiosity, he asked her a question.

Why in a brothel?

The young Bride knew the answer with absolute precision, but she kept it to herself.

Here I ask the questions, she said.

Alessandro Baricco is beloved by readers worldwide for his innovative tales of guile and charm, his atmospheric novels and their memorable characters. He is one of Italy’s bestselling and most critically acclaimed authors. His novels include Silk (Vintage, 1996), An Iliad (2006), and Mr Gwyn (2011).