[Alessandro and Nicolo have just been spotted by the convoy]
"No matter what they say, don't answer," Allesandro told
Nicolo under his breath, "and don't move."
"Why? What for?" Nicolo protested.
"To enrich their folklore."
"You're crazy!"
"Shut up."
"Hello!" someone screamed from a truck. "Hello there!"
When no answer came, everyone pressed against the rails on one
side, and the trucks tilted.
For a time the farmers were as still as the objects of their
curiosity. Then one of them jumped to the ground and scrambled up the rock. He
approached Alessandro and Nicolo more gingerly than he would have
approached an angry bull. Though for every step forward it seemed that he
took two steps back, he magically advanced to within five paces of them.
"What do you want?" he asked, as if they had insulted him.
Since neither of them wanted anything it was easy not to
answer.
The farmer stared at them for a while, mumbled something
and ran away.
When he reached the road, he said, "It's an old man, all dressed up, and
a boy. They say nothing! They're like stone!" This caused much buzzing.
"Shine a light on them!" someone shouted.
A truck backed up and maneuvered itself so that its
headlights shone on the two mysterious figures. They stared into the lights
and were absolutely still.
"You see! I told you. I said it, didn't I? Just like I said."
"Hey you," someone yelled. "Who are you? What are you, spirits
or something?"
One of the women began to wail. Soon it was a chorus. The
truck that had left the line quickly returned, and the farmers drive away,
crossing themselves.
"In a thousand years," Alessandro said, "this incident will be
remembered. By then, of course, we will have become angels, devils, or
a dragon that breathes fire -- but we have given this rock a story that
will be passed on."
"What good is that?"
"It isn't to our advantage, if that's what you mean.
However, it's pleasurable to cast a line into the future, no matter how
tenuously. You never know, the line may be unbroken all the way to the last
judgment.... Nicolo, mischief is important...."