The Head of the Saint Read Online Free PDF

voice comes out right here.”
    Samuel pointed at the exact place in the saint’s head where he heard the voice come from, just above the right ear.
    “I’ve not heard anything, not ever.”
    “What time is it?”
    Francisco looked at his watch and paused a moment.
    “Four-forty.”
    “It starts at five—morning and evening.”
    “Are you crazy?”
    “Might be, who knows…?”
    “I think you are.”
    “You’ll have to wait and see.”
    And as Francisco waited with a look of suspicion, Samuel talked a bit about his wound, the dogs, the ghost town. He said that all he wanted was to leave. He talked about Father Cicero, about the pilgrimages, about the days when he used to wake up early to sell hats on Horto Hill and how there were no hats to sell anymore. He started talking about his mother but quickly changed the subject. He said all the things he hadn’t been able to say in those silent days—and then the voices began. Each one sprang from somewhere different. On the right side of the head, two handspans above the ear, came the voice of the girl who was in love with the doctor:
    “My dear little saint, listen to me: I’ll take you out from under my bed if Dr. Adriano marries me, I promise I’ll do it right away and make a really nice altar in my house for you. Listen, dear saint, I want to go to the health center on Friday, but I don’t know what excuse to give my mother; I’m not ill at all. My mother gets these ideas into her head. If she finds out I’m going to the health center, she’ll close the café and come with me. I’ve already stolen one of his socks, my dear saint, I’ve already done the magic rituals, but nothing happens. Send me a sign, dear St. Anthony, send something straightaway so I can untie you, all right? Send the doctor to have lunch at the café, find some way of delaying the appointments so he doesn’t leave too early. Do something! In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen!”
    Samuel was holding back his laughter, both at the girl’s words and at the expression on the face of Francisco, who had his ear pressed to the head, indignant: “I can’t hear anything.”
    “Well, I can tell you: there’s a girl saying she likes good little Dr. Adriano. She wants to go to his office on Friday but can’t think what to tell her mother….”
    “You’re only making that up because I said the doctor was at the health center on Fridays, liar.”
    “I’m not, you brat, how could I have known his name? Did you by any chance tell me his name?”
    “No.”
    “So listen: she asked the saint for some way of deceiving her mother so she could go alone. She said otherwise her mother will close the café and go with her because she’s suspicious.”
    “Then it’s Madeinusa, the daughter of Helenice from the café. We’ve only got one café here.”
    “She’s the one who gave me some dry bread, and the old lady shooed me off with her broom. Her voice sounds different, but it must be the loudspeaker effect of this Devil of a saint.”
    “Oh man, don’t call the saint a Devil, that’s a sin.”
    “Right, and reading a magazine with naked women inside the head of a saint is not a sin?”
    “And there isn’t anyone else praying, then?” Francisco changed the subject.
    “Hang on.”
    Samuel moved himself around with a bit of trouble because of his wound. He placed the palms of his hands on the walls and slid his ear around until he could make out another voice. There were two or three more, but they were intermittent and confused.
    “There’s one saying, ‘Forgive me, forgive me, beloved St. Anthony.’ ” Samuel imitated her voice.
    Francisco laughed but then stopped suddenly. “No way, I’m not falling for this. You’re just a bandit, you’ve found out about the lives of the people here and now you’re trying to pull this crap with me. The head’s been here all these years and no one’s heard a thing. I can’t hear so much as a murmur.”
    “But