Bread, Love and Dreams Page #2

Without creases!

Don Emidio knows how

to do laundry!

Did you see the marshal

smiling at Fantassine?

He likes kidding.

- May I?

- Enter.

- I am the new commander

- I know. Get seated!

- Father, here's the coffee.

- One more cup of coffee please.

- You want a cup of coffee?

- Yes please, I love it.

I never go out without

my espresso maker.

A good cup of coffee always does good.

- Here you go.

- Thanks.

You shook it, it's full of grounds.

But I brought like the Blessed Sacrament!

We will settle this later. Go now.

I came to you Monsignor...

Monsignor to me...

I am just a poor priest.

- Excuse me, I'm unfamiliar. with titles

- Are you from Naples?

- Almost, I'm from Sorrento.

- That's why.

You Neapolitans say Sir to everyone.

Yes, but there are ways and means.

Anyway, thanks for your courtesy.

And your visit above all.

- My duty.

- I know that you're unmarried.

Yes, unmarried.

Marshal, this is a village

that offers no distraction.

It's a quiet village.

No strikes, no rebellion.

- You would like a rebellion?

- No, what's the point?

When I read in newspapers

that in Puglia or in Sicily

the farmers are rebellious,

go on strike on their lands,

I almost cry because at least

they have hope.

But here, since more than 50 years

the land belongs entirely to peasants

so, nothing could happen anymore.

It's a village of progress.

Yes, the progress of misery.

I have been here more than 40 years

and I swear that it takes lots of

strength to confess these poor folks.

Here we live deceiving

ourselves of living.

Maybe providence has decided

that this village must disappear.

And we are dying little by little,

day after day, without realizing it.

By the way, father...

are there often earthquakes here?

I saw ruins.

A little shock each year,

without serious consequences,

and a big one every

And when was the last big one?

Quite a while ago.

It's about time. This year

or the next we will dance.

Good. I have to go.

- This marshal takes the priest for a jinx.

- Why?

He made the sign of horns while

the priest spoke. But he's the cuckold!

Hurry up!

- Have a good sunday, marshal.

- Good sunday.

- What are you eating?

- Bread.

- With what?

- With fantasy, marshal.

- Bon apetit.

- Thanks.

Fantassine!

Do you want to buy these

plums I picked for you?

- For me?

- Yes, for you.

- Why?

- Because i like you.

Are you engaged?

Yes and no.

- What do you mean?

- You ask too many questions.

- Well, do you want them?

- Yes, how much is it?

Give what you like.

Is 50 lires okay?

Yes, it's okay to me.

Make it 100.

- Bring them to the barracks.

- Right now.

Good morning.

- Thief! Give me back my plums!

- Be careful about how you speak.

Give me back my plums.

You stole them from my orchard.

- That's what you say.

- I recognize them!

Your fruit is marked like sheep?

Thief!

There is the chief of thieves

Who is, who is?

I know but I don't say

or you put me in a jail.

Thief! I feel bad.

Take it easy, it's nothing against you!

Peppa, I'll die soon!

Just perish, just perish...

What... do you want?

It's for the marshal.

The marshal is out, come back later.

The marshal bought them and

told me to bring them here.

All right.

What's your name?

Stelluti Pietro, son of Giuseppe.

My name is Maria.

Maria de Ritis

daughter of the late Giovanni.

Nice meeting you.

I'll give you the basket?

I will come back to get it...

tomorrow.

Perfect. As you wish.

Tomorrow.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

- Good morning.

- Good morning.

- My regards, Donna Annarella.

- My regards, Marshal.

- Going for a walk?

- I always walk.

I had to help at a

parturition in Selvone.

There's no end to this place,

all those hamlets!

As you say.

You don't have transport?

I have a mule sometimes,

otherwise I walk.

- A beautiful lady like you!

- That's how it goes.

- May I?

- With pleasure.

- Have you been here a long time?

- Seven years, since graduation.

- My God, and how did you survive?

- It's like that.

I feel so lonely and lost.

It's always like that, in the beginning.

But you'll get used to it. People are friendly.

I am a social man, no family though,

I was made for family.

- Is it your fault?

- Apparently, Donna Annarella.

You don't know our life...

Until being promoted, a carabiniere

cannot be married. It's hard.

If I tell you about my life,

you won't believe me.

I had other aspirations.

I feel being an artist.

I would love to study music,

the mandolin.

I play guitar a little.

Or I'd like to have a perfumery.

Noble and gentle wares.

And here I am instead, a carabiniere.

Madonna knows how much I suffer

in becoming a marshal:

Service, discipline, heat, cold,

rain, whole nights, gunshots.

My poor feet made many miles.

My shoulders are hardened

by the strap of the rifle.

I've been so much in service that

all together it adds up to over four years.

Four years of my life with the rifle

on the shoulder. Anyway...

Marshal, we're almost there.

- You're right. Too bad.

- It's better if we separate.

- Gossip will travel quick.

- You are right.

Thanks for your good company.

It's me who should say thanks.

See you soon, I hope.

Sure.

- We are the only strangers.

- Oh, yes.

I already feel close with you.

- It makes me like.

- Really?

When you can cheer up someone,

it's always a delight.

And I feel so much relieved.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

The sergeant declared his

love to her. Now he goes away.

- And Annarella?

- She sighs.

You made me call,

Don Emidio?

Yes, you! Come over here.

Close the door.

What have you done this time?

We are already in countless troubles.

I know,

but the plums of Concezio...

Answer.

He has come complaining to me.

- It's him who steals many!

- Quiet.

He steals many.

He steals from the municipality, the poor

people, from everyone. You know that.

He will end up in hell.

Don Emilio, you know, Concezio is cunning.

On his deathbed, he will have you up

if he confesses and repents, he will

get absolution and go to paradise.

I will send him, but God judges.

But the poor folks, Don Emilio,

already live in a hell.

And they stay in hell because

they curse, steal and despair

Come to church.

Always the same story.

Here, people are wasting

themselves only in prayers.

If you want fruit you can

take them from my orchard.

I will obey, but ask

the saints some grace for me.

I pray for you every day.

You know that I mind my own business.

But I have a bad reputation.

Is it my fault that men walk after me?

If I would still have my father,

or a big brother,

the bad tongues would

be silenced quickly...

I know.

But if someone truly loves you,

send him to me, your confessor.

I will tell him how

good and clean you are.

- No, no.

- Let God bless you, Don Emidio.

Caramella.

What do your compatriots say

about the new marshal?

- That you appear to be a good man.

- Thank goodness!

They think you're nice.

Yes? Who says so?

The people.

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