One of the few things I was absolutely certain of was this:
that my name was Mattia Pascal. And I took advantage of it. Whenever one of my friends or acquaintances would show signs of having lost their mind, coming to me for advice or suggestions, I would shrug my shoulders, close my eyes, and respond:

— My name is Mattia Pascal.

— Thank you, dear. I know.

— Is that all?

To be honest, it didn't seem like much to me either. But until last year, it often happened that people would ask me to use my name and surname, as if it were something they needed: to a poor devil who wanted to present himself under a different guise, to a woman who was embarrassed to receive someone, or to a young man who wanted to appear important. And I would gladly lend out my name, although I didn't gain any direct benefit from it.
