Then he defined “opinions.”
Ed had picked up a rumor that there had once been an attempt to assassinate Professor Osiander during one of his sermons. Now if I had been on the jury… he thought. On his right, Leopold Cavriani was sleeping quietly.
* * *
Cavriani, in fact, had not been sleeping. He had been pondering the question of who had been doing the German translations for Benny Pierce. He thought that Secretary of State Piazza must be so familiar with the words of Benny’s songs in English that he really hadn’t paid any attention to the German lyrics. Cavriani had paid attention and he knew enough of both languages to catch that,
“When the roses bloom in Dixieland, I’ll be coming home to you” bore a reasonable relationship to “Als die Rosen naechst im Suden bluh’n, kehr ich ein, mein Schatz, bei dir.”
But the next verse of the English, which talked about birds singing music to the sweetest girl that the boy ever knew, bore no relation at all to: “Wenn wir endlich von dem Kriege ruh’n, kehr ich ein, mein Schatz, bei dir!”
The English words said nothing at all about finally resting from this war. There was a reason why he had made that “ensure that an idea spreads” comment to the American. He’d been vaguely disappointed that Piazza hadn’t picked up on it. This evening, he thought, he would see where the old man and the girl went after they packed up in the market square. It would be interesting to find out who their associates were.
* * *
“My life hasn’t been much, really,” Benny said to Cavriani. “I graduated from eighth grade, but that’s as far as it went. Fought in the Second World War. Down in Italy, it was—your name sort of rings a bell, but we’ve got a lot of Italians in Grantville, too. Got married. Mary Ann’s family came from Lebanon. She was Catholic. I’ve got to say that bothered me a bit—we were Methodist teetotal at home and I was really brought up on the ‘no popery’ line. But she switched over, so it was fine. I used to play “The Romish Lady” in her honor. Hmm… haven’t played that one in quite a while. Maybe I can polish it up tonight. If you come by the market tomorrow, I’ll play it for you.”
Benny stopped talking for a moment to eat before his grilled cheese sandwich got cold. “These aren’t bad, are they, Mr. Cavriani? They aren’t burgers, but they aren’t bad. Do you really want to hear more? Well, I worked in the mines most of my life. After the mine exploded at Farmington in sixty-eight—that was bad, seventy-eight men killed; only four got out—Mary Ann carried on ’til I gave in and quit. I was forty-seven then and went to driving the trucks; did that for twenty-three years. I’d figured on keeping on ’til she could collect her social security, but she died in ninety-two, before she’d even applied. I’d fiddled all my life, but after I lost her, I started fiddling pretty much full time. Galax; other competitions. Even did a few gigs at the big Tamarack tourist center down by Beckley. Wish you could have seen that place—it had quilts, jams, hand-carved duck decoys. You’d have liked it, I think. A marketplace with a roof over the top.”
Benny looked at his new friend, who nodded solemnly. Cavriani wasn’t able to identify half the references, but they weren’t going past him. He was storing them in his mind, to be written down later in the evening and checked out as soon as he had a chance.
Cavriani glanced at Minnie, who quite obviously didn’t understand what Benny was talking about either. But, right now, she didn’t care. Cavriani had ordered two whole sandwiches and a large glass of milk for her. Minnie was apparently a focused woman: she was definitely going to finish eating it all before the men stopped talking and left the Freedom Arches. For a minute, Cavriani was afraid that she’d try to cram that last half-sandwich into her mouth all at once and try to wash it down with the rest of the milk, but Benny started talking again.