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Cem Ünsalan
Marmara University
Duygun E. Barkana
Yeditepe University
H. Deniz Gürhan
Yeditepe University
Copyright © 2021 by The Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers, Inc.
IEEE Standards designations are trademarks of The Institute of Electrical and Electronics
Engineers, Incorporated (www.ieee.org/).
Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc., Hoboken, New Jersey. All rights reserved.
Published simultaneously in Canada.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise,
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Limit of Liability/Disclaimer of Warranty: While the publisher and author have used their best
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visit our web site at www.wiley.com.
ISBN: 9781119576525
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To our families.
vii
Contents
Preface xvii
About the Companion Website xix
1 Introduction 1
1.1 What is a System? 1
1.2 What is a Control System? 1
1.3 About the Book 3
3.5 Summary 59
Problems 60
Preface
We are surrounded by systems performing specific tasks for us. There are also con-
trol systems designed to improve existing system characteristics. To do so, an input
signal (possibly originating from a sensor) is acquired. The control system gener-
ates a control signal for this input. Hence, the desired system output is obtained.
The designed control system can be either in analog or digital form. Analog con-
trol systems are constructed by either electrical or mechanical elements. With the
arrival of embedded systems, digital control became the new standard. Recent
microcontrollers provide a cheap and powerful platform for this purpose. This
book aims to introduce implementation methods and theory of digital control sys-
tems on microcontrollers via focusing on real-life issues.
Python, MicroPython (the modified form of Python to be used in embedded
systems), and C will serve as the programming languages throughout the book.
Python will be extensively used in explaining theoretical digital control concepts.
MicroPython and C languages will be the main mediums for microcontroller based
implementation. Hence, the reader will develop and implement a digital controller
for a given problem.
We took an undergraduate engineering student and hobbyist as benchmark in
explaining digital control concepts. Therefore, a professional engineer may also
benefit from the book. We pick the STM32 board with an Arm Cortex-M microcon-
troller on it. Hence, the reader may find a wide variety of applications besides the
ones considered in this book. As a result, we expect the reader to become familiar
with the basic and advanced digital control concepts in action.
www.wiley.com/go/Unsalan/Embedded_Digital_Control_with_
Microcontrollers
The website includes:
1. C and Python codes and libraries used in the book.
2. C and Python codes and supplementary material for the end of chapter
applications.
3. Images used in the book.
4. PowerPoint slides for the instructors.
5. Solution manual for the end of chapter questions (only to the instructors
who adopted the book).
1
Introduction
This book aims to introduce digital control systems via practical applications.
Therefore, we will briefly introduce the system and control theory concepts in
this chapter. Then, we will emphasize how this book differs from the ones in
literature. Besides, we will summarize the concepts to be explored in the book.
Hence, the reader will have necessary background for the following chapters.
the motors (on the chassis); and guide the robot (system) accordingly. Yet another
example is controlling temperature inside the refrigerator. Here, refrigerator is the
system. The desired temperature value is set by the user as the reference signal.
The actual temperature value inside the refrigerator is measured by a sensor. The
control system sets the internal temperature to the desired value by using a cooler.
As can be seen in both examples, the control system is used to generate a desired
output for a given input.
The control system may be classified either as analog or digital depending on its
construction. If the system is only formed by analog components, then it is ana-
log. Early control systems were of this type. As the microcontroller and embedded
systems are introduced, digital controllers became dominant. The main reason for
this shift is that the control system developed in digital systems is a code snippet
which can be modified easily. Therefore, this book aims to introduce digital con-
trol methods implemented on microcontrollers. We will form a general setup for
this purpose as in Figure 1.2.
Microcontroller
x[n] y[n]
Amplifier System Amplifier
1.3 About the Book 3
The reader can reach all C and Python codes introduced throughout the book in
the accompanying book website. The complete project setup for the end of chapter
applications is also available in the same website. The instructors adopting the
book for their course can reach the solution manual for the end of chapter prob-
lems and projects introduced in Chapter 12 from the publisher.
5
Throughout the book, we will not only introduce digital control concepts from
a theoretical perspective, we will also implement them on embedded hardware
using C and Python languages. Therefore, the reader should become familiar with
the hardware to be used. This chapter aims to introduce these concepts. To do so,
we will assume a novice user as our target. Besides, we will cover all hardware top-
ics as abstract as possible. Hence, they can give insight on similar platforms. As
for embedded hardware, we will pick the STMicroelectronics NUCLEO-F767ZI
development board (STM32 board) and STM32F767ZI microcontroller (STM32
microcontroller) on it. These are the mediums our C and Python codes for digital
control will be implemented on. Afterward, we will introduce the DC motor, its
driver, and related hardware to be used in examples throughout the book. Finally,
we will introduce other systems and sensors which can be used in advanced appli-
cations. As all the hardware is introduced, we will be ready to use them in practical
digital control applications in solving real-life problems.
Figure 2.1 The STM32 board. (Source: STMicroelectronics. Used with permission.)
2.1 The STM32 Board 7
Figure 2.2 Pin layout of the STM32 board. (Source: Nucleo-F767ZI Zio Header, used
with permission of STMicroelectronics.)
8 2 Hardware to be Used in the Book
pin PB0. The onboard blue LED is connected to pin PB7. The onboard red LED is
connected to pin PB14. The onboard user push button is connected to pin PC13.
The reader should use the mentioned pins to reach the onboard LEDs and push
button in the following chapters.
Arm CPU
cortex-M7 Flash RAM GPIOs Timers
Bus matrix
different execution phases. For more information on this topic, please consult a
microcontroller book such as (Yiu 2013).
The CPU in the STM32 microcontroller is based on the Arm Cortex-M7 archi-
tecture. Let us explain this in more detail. Arm produces CPU cores in soft form
(called as IPs). Microcontroller vendors, such as ST Microelectronics, purchase the
right to use these IPs and develop microcontroller hardware. The advantage of this
model is as follows. When different vendors use the same CPU core by Arm, they
will have the same instruction set and properties. Therefore, the code developed
for one microcontroller can be ported to another microcontroller from a different
vendor. There is one important issue here. The microcontroller is not only com-
posed of CPU. It also has peripheral units (to be explained next). These may differ
for different vendors. Therefore, it may not be possible to directly port the code gen-
erated for one microcontroller to another (produced by a different vendor) when
peripheral units are used.
Operations within the CPU are done in clock cycles. Before going further, let
us first explain what the clock signal means. Clock is a periodic square wave gen-
erated by an oscillator. Frequency of the clock signal is measured in Hertz (Hz)
which indicates how many periodic pulses occur in one second. The CPU depends
on the clock signal. For the STM32 microcontroller, this clock frequency is maxi-
mum 216 MHz. The processor performs an action corresponding to an instruction
execution phase with each clock cycle. Assuming that an instruction requires four
clock cycles to execute, the CPU can process 54000000 instructions per second.
Hence, higher the frequency of clock signal, the faster operations are performed
within the CPU.
2.2.2 Memory
The microcontroller needs a medium to keep the code to be executed and variables
to be operated on. The relevant medium in the microcontroller is called memory.
10 2 Hardware to be Used in the Book
Unless the microcontroller is using an additional external memory, the core mem-
ory is always on the microcontroller chip.
There are two memory regions on the microcontroller as flash and RAM. Codes
to be executed are kept in the flash. As power of the microcontroller is turned
down, codes remain there. Therefore, flash resembles the solid-state drive (SSD)
on PC. Although the recent SSD storage size for a PC is reasonable, memory space
in flash of a microcontroller is very limited. For the STM32 microcontroller, this is
2 MB. Therefore, the user should prepare his or her digital control code such that
it does not exceed this limit. Fortunately, most digital control algorithms fit into
this space.
The medium for temporary storage in the microcontroller is called RAM. Hence,
variables to be executed in the code are kept there. This is similar to the RAM on
PC with one difference. The RAM on the microcontroller is very limited in storage
size. For the STM32 microcontroller, the RAM size is 512 kB. Therefore, the reader
should use this space with care.
control operations; two of them are basic timers; one of them is low power
timer; one of them is the Systick timer; and two of them are watchdog timers.
Although the microcontroller has such a diverse set of timer modules, we will use
general purpose timer modules most of the times. For more detail on the usage
of other timer modules, please see https://www.st.com/en/microcontrollers-
microprocessors/stm32f767zi.html.
The STM32 microcontroller has four UART, four USART, six SPI, four I2 C,
and three CAN modules. These modules have dedicated pins as explained in
Appendix A. We will explain the usage of these modules in the following chapters
whenever needed. For more detail on these modules, please see https://www.st
.com/en/microcontrollers-microprocessors/stm32f767zi.html.
CN10 GSPG2007150930SG
ST Morpho connector
CN5 CN9
Arduino UNO R3 Arduino UNO R3
connector connector
CN1
Motor phases connector
J1, J2, J3, J4
Mode selection jumpers
U1 CN1
CN6 Power supply connector
L6206 driver
Arduino UNO R3 50 V maximum
connector
D2, D3, D4, D5
Power output
CN7 operation LEDs (yellow)
ST Morpho connector CN8
Arduino UNO R3
connector
Figure 2.6 General settings of the DC motor drive expansion board. (Source: (STM
2015). Used with permission of STMicroelectronics.)
2.3.3 Encoder
The selected DC motor has an integrated encoder as mentioned in the previous
section. This is used to measure speed of the motor. The encoder we are using is
of type quadrature encoder with 48 counts per revolution (cpr).
16 2 Hardware to be Used in the Book
GSPG2007151015SG
Figure 2.7 Connection between the DC motor drive expansion board and DC motor.
(Source: (STM, 2015). Used with permission of STMicroelectronics.)
Output B
Clockwise
operation
The quadrature encoder is based on the magnetic two-channel hall effect sensor.
This sensor detects the magnetic field of a magnetic disk placed on the motor shaft
as it rotates. This creates two square waves as in Figure 2.8.
The hall effect sensor requires an input voltage, VCC , between 3.5 and 20 V and
it draws a maximum 10 mA current. The A and B outputs are square waves from
0 V to VCC and they are approximately 90 ∘ out of phase. Speed of the motor can be
calculated using the frequency of output signals. Direction of the motor can also
be obtained from the order of these signals. If both the rising and falling edges
of output signals are counted, the sensor provides the resolution of 48 cpr. If the
single edge of one output signal is counted, the sensor provides the resolution of
12 cpr. To find the resolution at the output of the gearbox shaft, the sensor cpr must
be multiplied by gear ratio which is 48 × 74.83 = 3591.84 cpr.
2.4 Systems and Sensors to be Used in Advanced Applications 17
2.4.1 Systems
There are wide variety of modules which can be used as a system. We tabulate
the most suitable ones for digital control applications in Table 2.2. In the same
18 2 Hardware to be Used in the Book
IV
Then the phalanxes, armed with scythes, with sickles, with hatchets,
with hoes and with muskets, reunited on the square before the
church.
And the idolaters shouted, “Saint Pantaleone!”
Don Consolo, terrified by the turmoil, had fled to the depths of a
stall behind the altar. A handful of fanatics, conducted by Giacobbe,
penetrated the large chapel, forced its gratings of bronze, and
arrived at length in the underground passage where the bust of the
Saint was kept. Three lamps fed with olive oil burned gently in the
sacristy behind a crystal; the Christian idol sparkled with its white
head surrounded by a large solar disc, and the walls were covered
over with the rich gifts.
When the idol, borne upon the shoulders of four Hercules, appeared
presently between the pilasters of the vestibule, and shed rays from
its aureole, a long, breathless passion passed over the expectant
crowd, a noise like a joyous wind beat upon all foreheads. The
column moved. And the enormous head of the Saint oscillated on
high, gazing before it with two empty eyes.
In the heavens now passed at intervals meteors which seemed alive,
while groups of thin clouds seemed to detach themselves from the
heavens, and, while dissolving, floated slowly away. The entire
country of Radusa appeared in the background like a mountain of
ashes that might be concealing a fire, and in front of it the contour
of the country lost itself with an indistinct flash. A great chorus of
frogs disturbed the harmony of the solitude.
On the road by the river Pallura’s cart obstructed progress. It was
empty now, but bore traces of blood in many places. Irate
imprecations exploded suddenly in the silence.
Giacobbe cried, “Let us put the Saint in it!”
The bust was placed on the boards and dragged by human strength
to the ford. The procession, ready for battle, thus crossed the
boundary. Along the files metal lamps were carried, the invaded
waters broke in luminous sprays, and everywhere a red light flamed
from the young poplars in the distance, toward the quadrangular
towers. Mascalico appeared upon a little elevation, asleep in the
centre of an olive orchard.
The dogs barked here and there, with a furious persistency. The
column having issued from the ford, on abandoning the common
road, advanced with rapid steps by a direct path that cut through
the fields. The bust of silver borne anew on rugged shoulders,
towered above the heads of the men amongst the high grain,
odorous and starred with living fireflies.
Suddenly, a shepherd, who rested under a straw shed to guard the
grain, seized by a mad terror at the sight of so many armed men,
began to flee up the coast, screaming as loud as he could, “Help!
Help!”
His cries echoed through the olive orchards.
Then it was that the Radusani increased their speed. Among the
trunks of trees, amid the dried reeds, the Saint of silver tottered,
gave back sonorous tinklings at the blows of the trees, became
illuminated with vivid flashes at every hint of a fall. Ten, twelve,
twenty shots rained down in a vibrating flash, one after another
upon the group of houses. One heard creaks, then cries followed by
a great clamorous commotion; several doors opened while others
closed, windows fell in fragments and vases of basil fell shivered on
the road. A white smoke rose placidly in the air, behind the path of
the assailants, up to the celestial incandescence. All blinded, in a
belligerent rage, shouted, “To death! To death!”
A group of idolaters maintained their positions around Saint
Pantaleone. Atrocious vituperations against Saint Gonselvo burst out
amongst the brandished scythes and sickles.
“Thief! Thief! Loafer! The candles!... The candles!”
Other groups besieged the doors of the houses with blows of
hatchets. And, as the doors unhinged shattered and fell, the howling
Pantaleonites burst inside, ready to kill. Half nude women fled to the
corners, imploring pity and, trying to defend themselves from the
blows by grasping the weapons and cutting their fingers, they rolled
extended on the pavement in the midst of heaps of coverings and
sheets from which oozed their flaccid turnip-fed flesh.
Giacobbe, tall, slender, flushed, a bundle of dried bones rendered
formidable by passion, director of the slaughter, stopped everywhere
in order to make a broad, commanding gesture above all heads with
his huge scythe. He walked in the front ranks, fearless, without a
hat, in the name of Saint Pantaleone. More than thirty men followed
him. And all had the confused and stupid sensation of walking in the
midst of fire, upon an oscillating earth, beneath a burning vault that
was about to shake down upon them.
But from all sides defenders began to assemble; the Mascalicesi,
strong and dark as mulattoes, sanguinary, who struck with long
unyielding knives, and tore the stomach and throat, accompanying
each blow with guttural cries. The fray drew little by little toward the
church, from the roofs of two or three houses burst flames, a horde
of women and children escaped precipitately among the olives,
seized with panic and no longer with light in their eyes.
Then among the men, without the handicap of the women’s tears
and laments, the hand-to-hand struggle grew more ferocious.
Beneath the rust-coloured sky the earth was covered with corpses.
Vituperations, choked within the teeth of the slain, resounded, and
ever above the clamour continued the shout of the Radusani, “The
candles! The candles!”
But the entrance of the church was barred by an enormous door of
oak studded with nails. The Mascalicesi defended it from the blows
and hatchets. The Saint of silver, impassive and white, oscillated in
the thick of the fray, still sustained upon the shoulders of the four
Hercules, who, although bleeding from head to foot, refused to give
up. The supreme vow of the attackers was to place the idol on the
altar of the enemy.
Now while the Mascalicesi raged like prodigious lions on the stone
steps, Giacobbe disappeared suddenly and skirted the rear of the
edifice for an undefended opening by which he could penetrate the
sacristy. Finally he discovered an aperture at a slight distance from
the ground, clambered up, remained fixed there, held fast at the
hips by its narrowness, twisted and turned, until at length he
succeeded in forcing his long body through the opening.
The welcome aroma of incense was vanishing in the nocturnal frost
of the house of God. Groping in the dark, guided by the crashing of
the external blows, the man walked toward the door, stumbling over
the chain, and falling on his face and hands.
Radusanian hatchets already resounded upon the hardness of the
oak doors, when he began to force the lock with an iron, breathless,
suffocated by the violent palpitation of anxiety that sapped his
strength, with his eyes blurred by indistinct flashes, with his wounds
aching and emitting a tepid stream which flowed down over his skin.
“Saint Pantaleone! Saint Pantaleone!” shouted outside the hoarse
voices of those who felt the door yielding slowly, while they
redoubled their shouts and the blows of their hatchets. From the
other side of the wood resounded the heavy thud of bodies of those
that had been murdered and the sharp blow of a knife that had
pinioned some one against the door, nailed through the back. And it
seemed to Giacobbe that the whole nave throbbed with the beating
of his wild heart.
After a final effort, the door swung open. The Radusani rushed in
headlong with an immense shout of victory, passing over the bodies
of the dead, dragging the Saint of silver to the altar.
An animated oscillation of reflections suddenly illuminated the
obscurity of the nave and made the gold of the candelabra glitter.
And in that glaring splendour, which now and again was intensified
by the burning of the adjacent houses, a second struggle took place.
The entangled bodies rolled upon the bricks, remained in a death
grip, balanced together here and there in their wrathful struggles,
howled and rolled beneath the benches, upon the steps of the
chapels and against the corners of the confessionals. In the
symmetrical concave of this house of God arose that icy sound of
the steel that penetrates the flesh or that grinds through the bones,
that single broken groan of a man wounded in a vital part, that rattle
that the framework of the skull gives forth when crushed with a
blow, that roar of him who dreads to die, that atrocious hilarity of
him who has reached the point of exulting in killing, all of these
sounds echoed through this house of God. And the calm odour of
incense arose above the conflict.
The silver idol had not yet reached the glory of the altar, because the
hostile forces, encircling the altar, had prevented it. Giacobbe,
wounded in many places, struck with his scythe, never yielding a
palm’s breadth of the steps which he had been the first to conquer.
There remained but two to support the Saint. The enormous white
head rolled as if drunk over the wrathful pool of blood. The
Mascalicesi raged.
Then Saint Pantaleone fell to the pavement, giving a sharp rattle
that stabbed the heart of Giacobbe deeper than any sword could
have done. As the ruddy mower darted over to lift it, a huge demon
of a man with a blow from a sickle stretched the enemy on his spine.
Twice he arose, and two other blows hurled him down again. The
blood inundated his entire face, breast and hands, while on his
shoulders and arms the bones, laid bare by deep wounds, shone
out, but still he persisted in recovering. Maddened by his fierce
tenacity of life, three, four, five ploughmen together struck him
furiously in the stomach, thus disgorging his entrails. The fanatic fell
backwards, struck his neck on the bust of the silver Saint, turned
suddenly upon his stomach with his face pressed against the metal
and with his arms extended before him and his legs contracted
under him.
Thus was Saint Pantaleone lost.
VIII
MUNGIA
Three days after the customary Easter banquet, which in the house
Lamonica was always sumptuous and crowded with feasters by
virtue of its traditions, Donna Cristina Lamonica counted her table
linen and silver while she placed each article systematically in chest
and safe, ready for future similar occasions.
With her, as usual, at this task and aiding, were the maid Maria
Bisaccia and the laundress Candida Marcanda, popularly known as
“Candia.” The large baskets heaped with fine linen rested in a row
on the pavement. The vases of silver and the other table ornaments
sparkled upon a tray; they were solidly fashioned, if somewhat
rudely, by rustic silversmiths, in shape almost liturgical, as are all of
the vases that the rich provincial families hand down from
generation to generation. The fresh fragrance of bleached linen
permeated the room.
Candia took from the baskets the doilies, the table cloths and the
napkins, had the “signora” examine the linen intact, and handed one
piece after another to Maria, who filled up the drawers while the
“signora” scattered through the spaces an aroma, and took notes in
a book. Candia was a tall woman, large-boned, parched, fifty years
of age; her back was slightly curved from bending over in that
position habitual to her profession; she had very long arms and the
head of a bird of prey resting upon the neck of a tortoise. Maria
Bisaccia was an Ortonesian, a little fleshy, of milk-white complexion,
also possessing very clear eyes; she had a soft manner of speaking
and made slow, delicate gestures like one who was accustomed
habitually to exercise her hands amongst sweet pastry, syrups,
preserves and confectionery. Donna Cristina, also a native of Ortona,
educated in a Benedictine monastery, was small of stature, dressed
somewhat carelessly, with hair of a reddish tendency, a face
scattered with freckles, a nose long and thick, bad teeth, and most
beautiful and chaste eyes which resembled those of a priest
disguised as a woman.
The three women attended to the work with much assiduity,
spending thus a large part of the afternoon.
At length, just as Candia went out with the empty baskets, Donna
Cristina counted the pieces of silver and found that a spoon was
missing.
“Maria! Maria!” she cried, suddenly panic-stricken. “One spoon is
lacking.... Count them! Quick!”
“But how? It cannot be, Signora,” Maria answered. “Allow me a
glance at them.” She began to re-sort the pieces, calling their
numbers aloud. Donna Cristina looked on and shook her head. The
silver clinked musically.
“An actual fact!” Maria exclaimed at last with a motion of despair.
“And now what are we to do?”
She was quite above suspicion. She had given proof of fidelity and
honesty for fifteen years in that family. She had come from Ortona
with Donna Cristina at the time of her marriage, almost constituting
a part of the marriage portion, and had always exercised a certain
authority in the household under the protection of the “signora.” She
was full of religious superstition, devoted to her especial saint and
her especial church, and finally, she was very astute. With the
“signora” she had united in a kind of hostile alliance to everything
pertaining to Pescara, and especially to the popular saint of these
Pescaresian people. On every occasion she quoted the country of
her birth, its beauties and riches, the splendours of its basilica, the
treasures of San Tomaso, the magnificence of its ecclesiastical
ceremonies in contrast to the meagreness of San Cetteo, which
possessed but a solitary, small, holy arm of silver.
At length Donna Cristina said, “Look carefully everywhere.”
Maria left the room to begin a search. She penetrated all the angles
of the kitchen and loggia, but in vain, and returned at last with
empty hands.
“There is no such thing about! Neither here nor there!” she cried.
Then the two set themselves to thinking, to heaping up conjectures,
to searching their memories.
They went out on the loggia that bordered the court, on the loggia
belonging to the laundry, in order to make a final examination. As
their speech grew louder, the occupants of the neighbouring houses
appeared at their windows.
“What has befallen you? Donna Cristina, tell us! Tell us!” they cried.
Donna Cristina and Maria recounted their story with many words and
gestures.
“Jesu! Jesu! then there must be thieves among us!” In less than no
time the rumour of this theft spread throughout the vicinity, in fact
through all of Pescara. Men and women fell to arguing, to surmising,
whom the thief might be. The story on reaching the most remote
house of Sant’ Agostina, was huge in proportions; it no longer told
of a single spoon, but of all the silver of the Lamonica house.
Now, as the weather was beautiful and the roses in the loggia had
commenced to bloom, and two canaries were singing in their cages,
the neighbours detained one another at the windows for the sheer
pleasure of chattering about the season with its soothing warmth.
The heads of the women appeared amongst the vases of basil, and
the hubbub they made seemed especially to please the cats in the
caves above.
Donna Cristina clasped her hands and cried, “Who could it have
been?”
Donna Isabella Sertale, nicknamed “The Cat,” who had the stealthy,
furtive movements of a beast of prey, called in a twanging voice,
“Who has been with you this long time, Donna Cristina? It seems to
me that I have seen Candia come and go.”
“A-a-a-h!” exclaimed Donna Felicetta Margasanta, called “The
Magpipe,” because of her everlasting garrulity.
“Ah!” the other neighbours repeated in turn.
“And you had not thought of her?”
“And did you not observe her?”
“And don’t you know of what metal Candia is made?”
“We would do well to tell you of her!”
“That we would!”
“We would do well to tell you!”
“She washes the clothes in goodly fashion, there is none to dispute
that. She is the best laundress that dwells in Pescara, one cannot
help saying that. But she holds a defect in her five fingers. Did you
not know that, now?”
“Once two of my doilies disappeared.”
“And I missed a tablecloth.”
“And I a shift shirt.”
“And I three pairs of stockings.”
“And I two pillow-cases.”
“And I a new skirt.”
“And I failed to recover an article.”
“I have lost——”
“And I, too.”
“I have not driven her out, for who is there to fill her place?”
“Silvestra?”
“No! No!”
“Angelantonia? Balascetta?”
“Each worse than the other!”
“One must have patience.”
“But a spoon, think of that!”
“It’s too much! it is!”
“Don’t remain silent about it, Donna Cristina, don’t remain silent!”
“Whether silent or not silent!” burst out Maria Bisaccia, who for all
her placid and benign expression never let a chance escape her to
oppress or put in a bad light the other servants of the house, “we
will think for ourselves!”
In this fashion the chatter from the windows on the loggia
continued, and accusation fled from mouth to mouth throughout the
entire district.
II
The following morning, when Candia Marcanda had her hands in the
soap-suds, there appeared at her door-sill the town guard Biagio
Pesce, popularly known as “The Corporal.” He said to her, “You are
wanted by Signor Sindaco at the town-hall this very moment.”
“What did you say?” asked Candia, knitting her brows without
discontinuing her task.
“You are wanted by Signor Sindaco at the town-hall this very
moment.”
“I am wanted? And why?” Candia asked in a brusque manner. She
did not know what was responsible for this unexpected summons
and therefore reared at it like a stubborn animal before a shadow.
“I cannot know the reason,” answered the Corporal. “I have received
but an order.”
“What order?”
The woman because of an obstinacy natural to her could not refrain
from questions. She was unable to realise the truth.
“I am wanted by Signor Sindaco? And why? And what have I done? I
have no wish to go there. I have done nothing unseemly.”
Then the Corporal cried impatiently, “Ah, you do not wish to go
there? You had better beware!” And he went away muttering, with
his hand on the hilt of his shabby sword.
Meanwhile several who had heard the dialogue came from their
doorways into the street and began to stare at the laundress, who
was violently attacking her wash. Since they knew of the silver
spoon they laughed at one another and made remarks that the
laundress did not understand. Their ridicule and ambiguous
expressions filled the heart of the woman with much uneasiness,
which increased when the Corporal appeared accompanied by
another guard.
“Now move on!” he said resolutely.
Candia wiped her arms in silence and went. Throughout the square
everyone stopped to look. Rosa Panara, an enemy, from the
threshold of her shop, called with a fierce laugh, “Drop the bone
thou hast picked up!”
The laundress, bewildered, unable to imagine the cause of this
persecution, could not answer.
Before the town-hall stood a group of curious people who waited to
see her pass. Candia, suddenly seized with a wrathful spirit,
mounted the stairs quickly, came into the presence of Signor Sindaco
out of breath, and asked, “Now, what do you want with me?”
Don Silla, a man of peaceable temperament, remained for a moment
somewhat taken aback by the sharp voice of the laundress and
turned a beseeching look upon the faithful custodians of the
communal dignity. Then he took some tobacco from a horn-box and
said, “Be seated, my daughter.”
Candia remained upon her feet. Her hooked nose was inflated with
choler, and her cheeks, roughly seamed, trembled from the
contraction of her tightly compressed jaws.
“Speak quickly, Don Silla!” she cried.
“You were occupied yesterday in carrying back the clean linen to
Donna Cristina Lamonica?”
“Well, and what of it? Is she missing something? Everything was
counted piece by piece ... nothing was lacking. Now, what is it all
about?”
“One moment, my daughter! The room had silver in it...!”
Candia, divining the truth, turned upon him like a viper about to
sting. At the same time her thin lips trembled.
“The room had silver in it,” he continued, “and now Donna Cristina
finds herself lacking one spoon. Do you understand, my daughter?
Was it taken by you ... through mistake?”
Candia jumped like a grasshopper at this undeserved accusation. In
truth she had stolen nothing. “Ah, I? I?” she cried. “Who says I took
it? Who has seen me in such an act? You fill me with amazement ...
you fill me with wonder! Don Silla! I a thief? I? I?...”
And her indignation had no limit. She was even more wounded by
this unjust accusation because she felt herself capable of the deed
which they had attributed to her.
“Then you have not taken it?” Don Silla interrupted, withdrawing
prudently into the depths of his large chair.
“You fill me with amazement!” Candia chided afresh, while she shook
her long hands as if they were two whips.
“Very well, you may go. We will see in time.” Without saying good-
bye, Candia made her exit, striking against the door-post as she did
so. She had become green in the face and was beside herself with
rage. On reaching the street and seeing the crowd assembled there,
she understood at length that popular opinion was against her, that
no one believed in her innocence. Nevertheless she began publicly to
exculpate herself. The people laughed and drifted away from her. In
a wrathful state of mind she returned home, sank into a condition of
despair and fell to weeping in her doorway.
Don Donato Brandimarte, who lived next door, said to her by way of
a joke:
“Cry aloud, Candia. Cry to the full extent of your strength, for the
people are about to pass now.”
As there were clothes lying in a heap waiting to be boiled clean she
finally grew quiet, bared her arms and set herself to work. While
working, she brooded on how to clear her character, constructed a
method of defence, sought in her cunning, feminine thoughts an
artificial means for proving her innocence; balancing her mind subtly
in mid-air, she had recourse to all of those expedients which
constitute an ignorant argument, in order to present a defence that
might persuade the incredulous.
Later, when she had finished her task, she went out and went first to
Donna Cristina.
Donna Cristina would not see her. Maria Bisaccia listened to Candia’s
prolific words and shook her head without reply and at length left
her in a dignified way.
Then Candia visited all of her customers. To each one she told her
story, to each one she laid bare her defence, always adding to it a
new argument, ever increasing the size of the words, becoming
more heated and finally despairing in the presence of incredulity and
distrust as all was useless. She felt at last that an explanation was
no longer possible. A kind of dark discouragement fastened upon her
mind. What more could she do! What more could she say!
III
When the first confused clamour of the rebellion reached Don Filippo
Cassaura, he suddenly opened his eyelids, that weighed heavily
upon his eyes, inflamed around the upturned lids, like those of
pirates who sail through stormy seas.
“Did you hear?” he asked of Mazzagrogna, who was standing
nearby, while the trembling of his voice betrayed his inward fear.
The majordomo answered, smiling, “Do not be afraid, Your
Excellency. Today is St. Peter’s day. The mowers are singing.”
The old man remained listening, leaning on his elbow and looking
over the balcony. The hot south wind was fluttering the curtains. The
swallows, in flocks, were darting back and forth as rapidly as arrows
through the burning air. All the roofs of the houses below glared with
reddish and greyish tints. Beyond the roofs was extended the vast,
rich country, gold in colour, like ripened wheat.
Again the old man asked, “But Giovanni, have you heard?”
And indeed, clamours, which did not seem to indicate joy, reached
their ears. The wind, rendering them louder at intervals, pushing
them and intermingling with its whistling noise, made them appear
still more strange.
“Do not mind that, Your Excellency,” answered Mazzagrogna. “Your
ears deceive you.”
“Keep quiet.” And he arose to go towards one of the balconies.
He was a thick-set man, bow-legged, with enormous hands, covered
with hair on the backs like a beast. His eyes were oblique and white,
like those of the Albinos. His face was covered with freckles. A few
red hairs straggled upon his temples and the bald top of his head
was flecked with dark projections in the shape of chestnuts.
He remained standing for a while, between the two curtains, inflated
like sails, in order to watch the plain beneath. Thick clouds of dust,
rising from the road of the Fara, as after the passing of immense
flocks of sheep, were swept by the wind and grew into shapes of
cyclones. From time to time these whirling clouds caused whistling
sounds, as if they encompassed armed people.
“Well?” asked Don Filippo, uneasily.
“Nothing,” repeated Mazzagrogna, but his brows were contracted.
Again the impetuous rush of wind brought a tumult of distant cries.
One of the curtains, blown by the wind, began to flutter and wave in
the air like an inflated flag. A door was suddenly shut with violence
and noise, the glass panel trembled from the shock. The papers,
accumulated upon the table, were scattered around the room.
“Do close it! Do close it!” cried the old man, with emotional terror.
“Where is my son?”
He was lying upon the bed, suffocated by his fleshiness, and unable
to rise, as all the lower part of his body was deadened by paralysis.
A continuous paralytic tremor agitated his muscles. His hands, lying
on the bed sheets, were contorted, like the roots of old olive trees. A
copious perspiration dripped from his forehead and from his bald
head, and dropped from his large face, which had a pinkish, faded
colour, like the gall of oxen.
“Heavens!” murmured Mazzagrogna, between his teeth, as he closed
the shutters vehemently. “They are in earnest!”
One could now perceive upon this road of Fara, near the first house,
a multitude of men, excited and wavering, like the overflow of
rivulets, which indicated a still greater multitude of people, invisible,
hidden by the rows of roofs and by the oak trees of San Pio. The
auxiliary legion of the country had met the one of the rebellion. Little
by little the crowd would diminish, entering the roads of the country
and disappearing like an army of ants through the labyrinth of the
ant hill.
The suffocated cries, echoing from house to house, reached them
now, like a continuous but indistinct rumbling. At moments there
was silence and then you could hear the great fluttering of the ash
trees in front of the palace, which seemed as if already abandoned.
“My son! Where is he?” again asked the old man, in a quivering,
squeaking voice. “Call him! I wish to see him.”
He trembled upon his bed, not only because he was a paralytic, but
also because of fear.
At the time of the first seditious movement of the day before, at the
cries of about a hundred youths, who had come under the balcony
to shout against the latest extortions of the Duke of Ofena, he had
been overcome by such a foolish fright, that he had wept like a little
girl, and had spent the night invoking the Saints of Paradise. The
thought of death and of his danger gave rise to an indescribable
terror in that paralytic old man, already half dead, in whom the last
breaths of life were so painful. He did not wish to die.
“Luigi! Luigi!” he began to cry in his anguish.
All the place was filled with the sharp rattling of the window glasses,
caused by the rush of the wind. From time to time one could hear
the banging of a door, and the sound of precipitate steps and sharp
cries.
“Luigi!”