Free Broken April by Ismaíl Kadaré Page B

is a genuine constitution of death,” he said, turning suddenly towards her. “People tell a lot of stories about it, and yet, however wild and merciless it may be, I’m convinced of one thing, that it is one of the most monumental constitutions that have come into being in the world, and we Albanians ought to be proud of having begotten it.”
    He seemed to wait for a word of approval, but she was silent; her eyes, however, looked into his with the same kindness.
    â€œYes, it’s only fair, we should be proud of it,” he went on. “The
Rrafsh
is the only region of Europe which—while being an integral part of a modern state, an integral part, I repeat, of a modern European state and not the habitat of primitive tribes—has rejected the laws, the legal institutions, the police, the courts, in short, all the structures of the state; which has rejected these things, you understand, because at one time it was subject to them, and it has renounced them, replacing them with other moral rules which are themselves just as adequate, so much so as to constrain the administrations set up by foreign occupying powers, and later the administration of the independent Albanian state, forcing them to recognize those rules, and thus to put the High Plateau, let’s saynearly half of the kingdom, quite beyond the control of the state.”
    Diana’s eyes sometimes followed the movements of her husband’s lips, sometimes his eyes.
    â€œThat history is very old,” he continued. “It began to crystallize when the Constantine of the ballad rose from the grave to keep his pledged word. Did you ever think, when we were studying that ballad in school, that the
bessa
mentioned in it is one of the foundation stones of a structure as majestic as it is terrifying? Because the
Kanun
is not merely a constitution,” he went on fervently, “it is also a colossal myth that has taken on the form of a constitution. Universal riches compared to which the Code of Hammurabi and the other legal structures of those regions look like children’s toys. Do you follow me? That is why it is foolish to ask, like children, if it is good or bad. Like all great things, the
Kanun
is beyond good and evil. It is beyond. . . .”
    At those words she was offended and her cheeks burned. A month ago she herself had put that very question to him: Is the Code good or bad? Then he had smiled without answering her, but now. . . .
    â€œYou needn’t be sarcastic!” She withdrew to the far end of the seat.
    â€œWhat?”
    It took some minutes before they came to an understanding. He laughed aloud, swore to her that he had never meant to offend her, that he did not even remember that she had once put the question to him, and he ended by asking her to forgive him.
    That little incident seemed to bring a bit of life into the carriage. They embraced, they caressed each other, thenshe opened her handbag and took out her pocket mirror to see if the light lipstick had rubbed away. That little business was accompanied by lively talk about their friends and about Tirana, which, it suddenly seemed to her, they had left long ago, and when they spoke again about the Code, the conversation was no longer stiff and cold, like the edge of an old sword, but more natural, perhaps because they mentioned especially those parts of the Code that dealt with daily life. When just before their engagement, he had given her as a present a fine edition of the
Kanun
, she had read those very passages without paying much attention, and she had forgotten most of the prescriptions that he was citing to her now.
    From time to time, they returned in spirit to the streets of the capital and spoke of friends they knew, but it was enough for a mill, a flock of sheep, or a lone traveller to appear on the horizon, for Bessian to bring up the articles of the Code that dealt with those things.
    â€œThe
Kanun
is