How much did I really owe Abbot Melani? I owed him not only the disillusionment which had engendered so much mistrust in me, but also such good things as had happened in my poor life: Cloridia, above all. If the Abbot had not come seventeen years earlier to upset the rhythm of my days and those of the other lodgers at the Locanda del Donzello, never would I have approached my beloved wife, and she herself would have remained caught up forever in the turbid profession in which I had found her. Neither would I ever have been able to acquire the science of men's thought nor indeed knowledge of the affairs of the world, wherewith I was now measuring that world. It was, without a doubt, a most bitter science, but one which had from a tremulous lad forged a man.
After supper, I set such thoughts aside and, as I rose from the table, I began once again to reflect upon the latest news. Going by the information I had received from the milkmaid, I must acknowledge that Abbot Melani was right. On the upper storeys of the Apostolic Palace of Monte Cavallo, important manoeuvres were taking place.
Barely had I had time to take my cordial leave of the chief cook and set foot outside the kitchen than a voice recalled me to my duties: "Signor Master of the Fowls!"
He who was now calling me by a title which in reality I did not deserve was just the man I sought: Don Paschatio Melchiorri, the Major-Domo.
Don Paschatio was above all things respectful of the prerogatives of those whose labour he, with the most pompous and dignified ceremoniousness, lovingly directed; and since in Don Paschatio's eyes the first attribute to be respected was the title, he had liberally endowed each of his subordinates with a title in keeping with the magnificence of the Spada household, which we all humbly and faithfully served. So it was that I, who more and more frequently supplied the aviary with feed and water, had become the Master of the Fowls. A peasant from the neighbourhood who, from time to time performed the duties of hoeing, weeding and manuring the flower beds was no longer to be called Giuseppe (his real name) in Don Paschatio's presence, but Master of the Hoe. The husbandman of the vineyard, Lorenzo, who provided the Villa Spada with golden clusters of grapes and white wine, was graced with the title of Master Viticulturist. With the passing of time, similar names had been granted by Don Paschatio to all the servants of the villa, down to the last and humblest day-labourers like myself. When Don Paschatio was doing his rounds, 'twas midst a veritable flowering of sonorous titles, like "Master of the Horse, good day to you, Sir!", "Master Deputy Bursar, good evening!", "Master Assistant Steward, good day to you, show me the luncheon table!", while those whom he addressed were merely a groom, a clerk assisting with kitchen supplies and one of the cook's assistants. And this he did, not out of love for rhetoric, but from the highest regard for the service of his lord. One could have asked Don Paschatio quite unceremoniously whether one could cut off a finger, yet he'd reflect before refusing. No one, however, could ever have asked him to deprive himself of the pleasure and the honour of devotedly and faithfully serving the distinguished and noble Spada family.
It so happened that Don Paschatio had overheard me that evening taking my leave of the Steward with the words "Farewell till tomorrow, chief!", which he found undignified and over-familiar: "You see, Signor Master of the Fowls," quoth he, upbraiding me with courteous gravity, as though to put me on guard against some danger, "the Steward commands the cook, the carver, the scullions and the kitchen barons as well, of course, as the bursars."
"Don Paschatio, I know, I…"
"Let me tell you, let me tell you, Signor Master of the Fowls. The good Steward must prepare the list of purchases for the bursar, and make sure that what is bought corresponds thereto, and that from the pantry it passes directly into the hands of the cook. The disposition of the provisions, which must…"
"Believe me, truly, I meant only to…" I interrupted in vain.
"… of the provisions, as I was saying, which must appear magnificent, both on the ordinary table and on the banqueting table, all of which depends upon the worthiness and good judgement of the Steward who, being excellent at his profession, makes little appear much and with sparse purchases can produce as fine a display of victuals as another less expert might manage, spending twice as much. For a steward who cannot perfectly order and administer will be cheated, which will be prejudicial to his own honour and to that of his master. Do you follow me, Signor Master of the Fowls?"
"Yes, Don Paschatio," I nodded resignedly.
"The Steward must so arrange matters that the viands are well kept, in order of time, so that they are served up at table in small quantities and promptly, so that they do not grow cold, and meet the master's desires; he must ensure that no strangers enter the pantry or the secret kitchen, where he commands, and sometimes not even members of the household. He must take great care in controlling that the comestibles which reach his lord's mouth are of the best quality and pass through as few hands as possible, so as to avoid any possibility of the dishes being spoiled or indeed even poisoned. The Steward, in sum, hold's his master's life in his hands."
"I understand your meaning, but I only permitted myself to salute.."
"Signor Master of the Fowls, having due regard to what I have just brought to your attention, I beg you to make your salutations in the manner prescribed by the rules of the Spada household and to address the Signor Steward with all due deference," said he in heartfelt tones, as though I had gravely offended the interested party who, at that moment, had very different matters on his mind.
"Very well, that I promise you, Signor Major-Domo," I replied, carried away by the abuse of appellations, even forgetting that I myself was wont always to address Don Paschatio by his name.
Don Paschatio's natural tendency was obviously accentuated in those days by the great preparations for the nuptials.
"Signor Master of the Fowls," said he at length, "a foreign gentleman, or so I am informed, one whom we have the honour of numbering among the guests of His Eminence Cardinal Spada, has of late requested your services. I know that he is a person of note and do not intend to interfere in the matter; nevertheless, I trust that you will be so good as to fulfil your duties, where these do not conflict with the requirements of the gentleman in question, with unaltered alacrity."
"Pardon me, but how did you know?" I asked in surprise.
"I have been notified, simply and… well, yes, I hope that I meet with your complaisant and responsible understanding," replied Don Paschatio.
It was clear that Atto, in order to be able to enjoy my services undisturbed during those days at the Villa Spada must have paid some sizeable gratuity, perhaps to the Major-Domo himself, thus acquiring for himself the reputation of a gentleman who can, if he so desires, be quite generous. I therefore informed Don Paschatio that I was at that moment at his service, if he so desired.
"But of course, Master of the Fowls," he replied with ill-concealed satisfaction, "there are indeed a number of tasks which you could fulfil, seeing that certain persons have, how shall I put it, betrayed their trust."
He explained to me that a number of servants had that afternoon inexplicably absented themselves, failing to nail the steps of the theatre's stairways, so that the work could not be completed on time, as Cardinal Spada had peremptorily ordered a few weeks previously. I knew the reason (perfectly trivial, in truth) for that desertion: they had met a group of country girls and had carried them off to gallivant amongst the vines outside the San Pancrazio Gate behind the Corsini's House of the Four Winds; a circumstance which I kept to myself, not so much in order to avoid being a tell-tale as not to aggravate the mood of Don Paschatio. The Master of the Household was already furious; yet again, he had been abandoned by his subordinates and the dressing-down which he had received from Cardinal Spada had left its mark on him.