The Brewer of Preston by Andrea Camilleri Page B

sir.”
    â€œAnd why is that?”
    â€œWe cannot risk provoking a popular uprising simply because you insist on indulging your whim of staging an opera that, to judge by appearances, the people of Vigàta really do not like and will not tolerate.”
    â€œThat’s not true.”
    â€œWhat’s not true?”
    â€œThat the people of Vigàta don’t like it. The people of Vigàta don’t understand a bloody thing about anything, so you han imagine how much they know about music. The fact is that someone, and I don’t yet know who, has told them to behave in this manner.”
    â€œAnd what would be the reason for this?”
    â€œIt’s very simple, my dear holonel. To oppose, at all costs, the will of the national government’s representative.”
    â€œThat may be so, Your Excellency. But by insisting, you risk creating ill will at a moment when it’s the last thing we need, as you should know better than I. I needn’t remind you that this island is a powder keg, and if it hasn’t yet exploded, it is only thanks to the prudence—or, if you prefer, the fears—of Mazzini. I, therefore, will not put the army, will not put my men, in the service of obstinacy and pigheaded behavior.”
    â€œOn the part of the Vigatese.”
    â€œYes, but on your part as well.”
    â€œOn
my
part? How dare you!”
    Aymone Vidusso miraculously managed to restrain his urge to punch the prefect in the face.
    â€œExcellency, let us try to remain calm and speak reasonably.”
    â€œOh, I am very reasonable, you know. And I say, huite reasonably, that when there is a danger of unrest against the instituted authority, the state, all the armed forces—all of them, I say, regardless of branch or service—must, by God, be united in the will to put down the uprising, without splitting hairs. These Sicilians smell bad, do you know that or don’t you?”
    The colonel made no sign of having heard him. He did not answer the question, but merely adjusted his monocle.
    â€œWell, they do,” Bortuzzi persisted. “They smell bad, and the Vigatese even worse than the rest.”
    â€œI’ll not enter into the subject of odors,” the colonel said diplomatically. Indeed, to him, it was His Excellency himself, the prefect, who had for some time already begun to smell bad. “But let me reiterate that it has never been, to my knowledge, legitimate to force anyone to enjoy an opera by means of prefectorial decree.”
    As soon as he said these words, he froze and fell silent in amazement. Where on earth had he, the unbending Piedmontese, come up with a statement so ironic? Apparently the prefect was getting on his nerves as never before. He collected himself and continued.
    â€œIf you wish to do so, of course, you may. But you are not free to do so. And it’s quite possible that someone will see your actions as an abuse of power. That is your affair. The Italian army, however, cannot and must not be implicated in so foolish a scheme. And I will, in any case, ask the opinion of the proper authorities. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
    He rose, tall and stiff, wedged his monocle more firmly in his eye, brought his hand to his visor, and executed a half bow. Bortuzzi darkened as he watched the maneuver. His eyes would have burnt the colonel if they could.
    â€œHolonel,” he said. “Holonel, I am warning you. I have no choice but to see your actions as an explicit refusal to homply. And thus I shall have to file a report to your immediate superior. That would be General Hasanova, is that not correct?”
    â€œYes, sir, Avogadro di Casanova. Do as you see fit, Your Excellency.”
    He turned on his heel and went out, closing the door behind him.
    â€œNincompoop of a nincompoop!” His Excellency muttered. “You’re going to pay for this! You’re going to find yourself in the eye of the storm with a