The Heir
Translated from Italian by Gini Alhadeff
Hannelore, a girl without a fixed residence, is the only witness to a fire in the apartment of Fraulein von Oelix. A modest, gray afternoon. Vitreous. The fraulein is a kind woman, wilted and very lonely. And solitude had made her even kinder, she practically apologized. Lonely people are often afraid to let their solitude show. Some are ashamed. Families are so strong. They have all of advertising on their side. But a person alone is nothing but a shipwreck. First they cast it adrift, then they let it sink. Fraulein von Oelix lives in a lovely apartment. The fraulein eats little, is strictly vegetarian. Hannelore has just returned from shopping. She is ten years old. She follows the fraulein’s orders with precision and good cheer. She is happy to be of service. She is attached to her. That afternoon, the air was becoming stifling. “I am about to faint,” said Fraulein von Oelix. It was a lucky thing that the girl was there. So calm, tranquil, not gripped by panic. She would call the firefighters. Flames are swift. Around the fraulein the flames were spinning, as though playing. Hannelore put a wool turban on her head. Her hands are covered in rags, as though they were boxing gloves. She is playing, too. She ducked the flames nimbly, she was using a wool blanket as a shield. The adorable little warrior. The apartment is semi-destroyed. The girl did not call the firefighters. The portraits fall. The fire, Hannelore thinks, shows its vocation to annihilate. The word vocation, she said to the flames in a knowing tone, regards you, fire, because everything has a primordial force that triggers our actions. Fire is not the criminal. It is God who sends the flames into the apartment with its Biedermeier furniture. There are images with a heart in the shape of a flame. It was He who started the fire. Souls are dangerous. Often enflamed. The girl felt like preaching, but breathing was labored. The flames excited her. She runs from room to room, drunk with danger. Who is she to impede a destructive destiny? Only God can. God ordered the total destruction of the house. She knows that. There is something larger above us all, in hidden places that command the flames to take possession of every life pulse. She is indigent, the daughter of unknown parents, without prospects. She cannot beseech. She has nothing. How can she pray for grace? Those who have nothing, nothing at all, don’t ask. She doesn’t even have a past. Or a birthday. She sprang from trash and to trash will return. She sprang from the swamps of the dead. And to the swamps she will return. That is why the fraulein took her in. Why then put out flames willed by supreme design? And then she was having fun. For the first time, in her miserable existence. For us, creatures of the streets, instinct is our dwelling. And a total disregard for the good. And often, when it feels like it, evil is the best form that the highest good can take.
.jpg)
/cloudfront-eu-central-1.images.arcpublishing.com/prisa/IM4LAYV76JFJVKYYCA75ASINI4.jpg)
.jpg)
