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SENECA .. 102

To my cousin LUIGI PALLADINO

For you, my cousin, I liked to tell the deeds; if narrations can be called the poor scraps of my inexperienced pen, I dedicate with affection and admiration this my tenuous job, begging you to excuse if unaware of "the beautiful style" I have not been able to illustrate your life as it really was, and in its depth, and in its apex.

Therefore, I beg your pardon and nevertheless I hold on the hope this homage be pleasing to you and it remains as a pledge of my sincere friendship.

Vale Stefania Palladino

Ortobello, 25 May 1906

LUIGI

Born from a wealthy family of the province, Luigi had reached the age of six always enjoying all the satisfactions the splendour can grant to children and, endowed with a sweet and serene nature, he had been filled with kisses and caresses, gifts and surprises; the sun had fallen on the child's days, always illuminating his little head.

But a sudden wind rose to dry up the harvests of wealth, of joy, of the hope of that young life, of that candid youth. Due to financial difficulties, his family began to decay, doing bad business from day to day so that, in two years, he lost all his substance, plunging into a harrowing misery. So Luigi, aged eight, the age in which children enjoy the games more and abandon themselves to the carefree joy of their green years, found himself in the most frightful misery, and he was forced to leave the toys to earn a living.

With the reflection of a man and with the will to work, he went to a coiffeur who, in exchange of his little services, thought of his existence.

From this moment on he began his hard but laborious life, painful but honest, unbearable sometimes but always loyal and reputable.

Do not believe that, having only eight years, he had not understood the full depth of his misfortune, because the smile was banished from his lips, the joy no longer shone in his clear eye and the childish brigades counted one less companion, while the despair took possession of his soul, supported only by a bright dream that came back with his fantasy of a child unaware of the world. He did not know how to set a goal, but he often repeated what he felt impressed in his soul in fiery characters: "when I will be twenty years old! .."

In this period of sorrow he also lost his father, which increased his despair, so he moved to Naples with his family, where a new series of troubles began for him and his family.

Also here he went to a coiffeur but, not being brought for this job, he entered as a garçon in a hotel. Meanwhile the years passed and his early ideas matured, acquired at the school of misfortune. He had heard of "foreign parts", where good positions could be reached with work that would have enabled a comfortable life; he inquired, he made his decisions and bold and confident in the future at fourteen he decided to leave for England.

His mother, more fearful and wary, at first denied him her permission, but he did so much, so much ... that at last, the mother satisfied him and, being far from Naples, for family reasons, she wrote him a letter where, showing him all her motherly love ... "who does not know who is not a mother ...", with loving and effective words she exhorted him and advised him on the way to go, in the harsh path of life, repeating that, in the most painful moments, re-read those characters, in which she had infused all her soul, and he would have drawn the comfort that she would send him with her thoughts every day, every hour, every moment. And in fact, how many times in the tortuous path that Fate had traced to him, the poor boy felt the need to read those phrases, so as to resume the courage he felt was missing, and use a spur to overcome all the obstacles he encountered on his journey.

How many times, rereading those characters, he wiped his bitter tears and resigned himself to his worries; how many times he kissed that piece of paper and how many times, finding himself alone among unknown and sometimes bad people, he felt the need for maternal caresses, those sweet caresses are a balm for the hardly felt human heart, and he vented on that little piece of paper the intensity of his affections.

The day of departure arrived and the intrepid Luigi, simulating the displeasure to leave the family, remained calm and prudent until the last moment, giving courage to his parents and repeating, between a hug and a handshake: "When I will be twenty years I will return, when I will be twenty years old I want to be the pride of the family. Yes ... I will be "and he left.

But when he was alone, in his third-class compartment, he gave vent to his tears and with death in his heart he said goodbye to the beautiful Parthenope, where he left his loved ones, to Italy, his beloved homeland, to the beautiful ever blue sky, to fertile countryside, to the luxuriant city, and with his head in his hands, he fell into complete abandonment, until his mind, clouded by the painful and various emotions, clouded his sight. It made him lose the notions of what had happened, it made begin a dream his past and he felt only the jerks and the dull noise of the convoy like a beating and repeating of doors, a recollection of memories and dreams, a set of leaves shook by the wind.