𝐈𝐋 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑒

capitolo xi

𝖣𝗈𝗉𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅𝗅'𝖾𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗆𝖺 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝗂 𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝖼𝗋𝖾, 𝖤𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗆𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝗀𝗇𝗂 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗓𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗈. 𝖣𝗂𝗋𝗅𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗂𝗅 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗆𝗈. 𝖨𝗇 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗅 𝗀𝗂𝗈𝗏𝖺𝗇𝖾 𝗏𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗈 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗂 𝗌𝗎𝗅 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗈, 𝖼𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗂𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗍𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝗅 𝖼𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗈 𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾.

𝖬𝖺 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺, 𝖤𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗆𝗈 𝗌𝗂 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝖺̀ 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗈 𝗅'𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗆𝗈, 𝗀𝗅𝗂 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗌𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗂 𝖽𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗏𝖺 𝖽𝗂 𝗉𝗂𝗎̀ 𝗂𝗇 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈, 𝖼𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝖺 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗎𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝖻𝗋𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝖽𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖺, 𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝖽𝖺 𝗈𝗀𝗇𝗂 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗀𝗇𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗂 𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗓𝖺 𝖾 𝖽𝗂 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖾.

𝖣𝗂 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗂𝗌𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗓𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾, 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖾̀ 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗈 𝗈 𝗁𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗈𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗉𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂. 𝖱𝗂𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗈 𝖿𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝖾́ 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈 𝖾 𝗅𝗈 𝖺𝗂𝗎𝗍𝖺 𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂 𝗊𝗎𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖾.

𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖼𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗀𝗀𝗂𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖺 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺, 𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗈̀ 𝖽𝖺 𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺 𝗎𝗇𝖺 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖿𝗂𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗂𝖽, 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗋𝗈.

𝖢𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗎𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖺̀ 𝗅𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖾, 𝖾 𝗅𝖺 𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈̀. 𝖤𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗆𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝖾𝖼𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗈 𝖽𝗂 𝗏𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗅 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗇 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗍𝗈, 𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗈𝖻𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗈, 𝖤𝖽𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗈 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗂, 𝗂𝗅 𝗌𝗎𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗈 𝖽'𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗓𝗂𝖺.
𝖨𝗅 𝗌𝗎𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗆𝗈 𝖿𝗎 𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖺𝗂 𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗂, 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗌𝗂 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗅𝖼𝗂 𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗎𝗆𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗌'𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗈 𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗎𝗌𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺, 𝖽𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗎𝗆𝗈 𝖽𝗂 𝗌𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝖾 𝗂𝗅 𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾, 𝖽𝗂 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾.
𝖤𝖽𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗈 𝖾 𝗅𝗎𝗂, 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗅 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗈, 𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗂 𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗂, 𝖽𝗎𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗎𝗂 𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖺 𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗂, 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗓𝖺, 𝗆𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗈, 𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗂 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈 𝗉𝗂𝗎̀.