mission, in that house, was to bring to the masters, on their orders, a tray with three glasses filled with champagne, one for each master and the other for him. So much was their affection for him that, in the evening, they did not retire to their rooms if their "enfant gaité" had not gone to rest before.
But, like gold, he had to be tried by fire, therefore his adverse destiny did not want to abandon him.
Now he had found a delightful oasis in the desert of his life, he had the misfortune of meeting in the "house master" a perverse man, whose bad instincts, aided by envy, flared up and changed into a relentless hatred for the poor Luigi. The wicked man always amused himself by torturing him with words and deeds, and he bitterly bit the day with his sneers, his lashings, his outrages, continually tearing his wound with the scorn of his beloved homeland "Italy".
Perhaps it was the most painful period of his life and we can easily understand it by looking at it from the psychic side. We think about the poor Luigi alone, without relatives; without friends; let us think of his heart, very much tried by the troubles, the incessant fever of nostalgia that tortured him and we imagined his sad thoughts, his melancholic days, his painful vigils.
Let's see him sad and meditative to tread the foreign soil, wander among unknown people, speak a different idiom, look at a foreign sky and we think about his patriot love magnified by distance, changing to the profound religion that painted Italy not as a beloved land, but as a Supreme Idol, infusing him with courage, giving him faith, constancy, stirring up his leaps and heroic deeds, exhorting him to noble undertakings and making him repeat the verses of Cavallotti in the Song of Songs:
"To her my prayers, I ask her the boldness. Faith, the perseverance, the magnanimous angers. I dream her in the nights, I see her in the nights.
I give her affections, tears, for her I fight and I believe. And the heart beats in turmoil and a fever conquers it, while the sweet image looks at me and smiles at me ".
And who does not love the country?
"... they also love them.
The native caverns, the same proud, " Metastasio says.
So we think about the torment of his heart, about the heart of the exile, he dreams about his country and he raises this dream to the most sublime peaks of the Ideal, he hears insults on it with atrocious and overwhelming words.
Let us think about the revolt of his whole being against the reprobate who dares to despise his most sacred possession, seeking to condemn his religion, ardently hurting his idol. And every day Luigi had to undergo this torture, every moment he felt despising his beloved homeland.
Yet, even though he was tormented by constant insults, Luigi stifled his pain and anger and he had the magnanimity to write to his mother he was pleased and happy, while some tear came to fall on the sheets of paper, as if to deny his words.
Finally the hour of the revolt sounded. One day while Luigi, the Master of the House and all the family members were at table, they were struck by the rhythm of a Neapolitan song "Oi Marì", sung in the street and accompanied by the organ of an Italian wandering player. Hearing the music of the sweet little known song, Luigi felt his heart moved, thundering, his temples beating him like hammers, the blood flowing to his head and a pile of pious memories, dear memories, happy memories coming to invade his adolescent youthful seventeen mind. But, at the same time as he was prey to these sweet emotions, the harsh voice of the Master of Home called him to the harsh reality:
"Do you hear, Giorgio, your Italians? They can do only this, miserable ones! ".
These words were the lit fuse that gave fire to the out mine since some time in the heart of Luigi, in the complete revolt of his whole being. These injuries led him to paroxysm: he forgot himself, angry like a beast who defends his offspring, he would have jumped around the neck of the Master of Home if he was close to him, but as he sat opposite him, he grabbed a glass and he threw it to his face with a mad laugh and a cry of rage like a roar.
Then there was an indescribable scuffle; all the servants became pale, astonished: the Master of the House with a wound in the forehead from which flowed a trickle of blood lost in the thick eyebrows, with eyes inflamed by hatred, with the mouth half open covered by a reddish foam, he wanted to throw himself on Luigi, who, fearless with his arms folded, was waiting with defiance of the brute's fury! But luck would have it that the Milord moved from an adjoining room and, hearing that devil, he rushed to the place where the drama unfolded and he was amazed by the gruesome picture offered to his eyes. He wanted to be informed of everything and, with his authority, he tried to calm those troubled souls from the incident; in fact, little by little the calm was restored, the Master of the House had the care he needed, Luigi retired to his room and soon the palace returned to its normal state. On the second day the Milord discharged from his service the Master of the House with the order to leave the palace immediately.
In the meantime Luigi had already regretted his excess of anger and for how much he recognized his anger was legitimate, in his good heart, he felt a hint of remorse and who knows what he would have given to make appear everything a painful dream. He reproached for letting himself be carried away by rage and he would have gladly made the time retreat, to stop that rage. He did not think, in his adolescent mind, human affairs are the work of Fate, a powerful God who governs the destinies of men and an arbiter he rises among them working, destroying, sometimes denying, but often as Filicaia in "Providence" : "Or he pretends denying or he grants in denial".
Fate had wanted that event, because Luigi's life had a change. In fact he (always stimulated by the unknown force of fate) ardently desired to change "place" because those places, reminding him of the tragedy of which he was the protagonist, made him experience continuous emotions, aroused him sad thoughts and everything that surrounded him appeared dismal and creepy; so he decided to find another place at any cost.
He had a sincere friend who occupied a good position: he confided in him and he had from him the promise of making him find a good seat soon.
After a few days, Luigi was satisfied; through his friend he had a "place" in a Hotel, that is, in a company of those who make the season in the best Hotels in Europe and abroad.
That new place made him very happy because, in addition to job satisfaction, it was a lucrative place and he had the prospect of a beautiful future; moreover, his good character, or rather his moral qualities, captivated all the souls of his superiors and colleagues and soon he saw himself surrounded by the affection of all. He worked assiduously and during the hours of rest he also tried to study and, finally, after a few months, having vacated a position as second secretary, the director considered it well to admit Luigi, being himself the most suitable to occupy that place quite important. His joy was Indescribable, seeing himself reach the base of his ascent, prefixed and long coveted, seeing start the realization of his desires that aroused new and stronger hopes to get a day a reward to the many moral and material endeavours endured .
But the hard trials were not ended for him: the company, after the season in London, sailed for Algeria. The journey was very beautiful, the long expanse of the sea reflected, like a mirror, the pure blue of the sky, the ship was running fast on the waves cut by the helix and then joined in a long foamy furrow. Nature was in perfect calm and all the crewmen were smiling at the ocean, in the sky, in the sun ....
But there is no rose without a thorn; the crossing, at first happy, changed into great danger, into an indescribable fright. They entered the Strait of Gibraltar when great clouds appeared on the horizon, which, driven by a sudden, impetuous wind, run and succeeded each other with dizzying rapidity, gradually covering the sky. Strong bursts elevated the waves banging against the sides of the ship, the cabins, the trees.
The captain, an old
