Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

And, seeing that a few giggles began to be heard amid the tremors and tears, I continued cradling her, my hands encircling the slimmest, dearest little body that I could ever imagine existed on earth.

‘ Ooh, ooh, ooh, dormi figghia, fa la “O”. E si Beatrice nun voli durmiri coppa nno’ culu sa quantu n’ha aviri … ooh, ooh, ooh … dormi bedda, fa la “O” … Sleep, little one, go to beddy-bye …’

Beatrice’s ability to go from tears to laughter was something that took my breath away. She was laughing now, curled up in my lap.

‘Do you know why I’m laughing?’

‘How would I know that?’

‘Because you’re singing the same lullaby that my tata used to sing to me.’

‘Your tata ?’

‘Yes, my nanny, the wet nurse. They say tata on the continent, and that’s what they taught me to call her. It seems more elegant to them, except that my tata was Sicilian, and I know there’s a bad word in that lullaby.’

‘So you understand Sicilian then?’

‘Of course I understand it. With my tata , when we were alone, ’u parravamu sempri , we always spoke it. I like it a lot, but in our home it’s forbidden: French, English, Italian, anything but Sicilian. So many things my tata told me! She always spoke to me in Sicilian, or rather in Palermitano. She was from Palermo, and she was very proud of it. She hated Catania: “C atanisi soldu fausu ,” she always said, “The Catanesi are false.” 16And I enjoyed needling her. She would get angry, but then we laughed and made up. What good times those were, Modesta, there in Catania! The house was always full. They were all alive, then, and we didn’t have this damn war. We came to the villa only in the summer, but here too, the house was always full of people. Ignazio’s friends … if you knew how many he had! And all young. When they came to see him they would shut themselves up in his room and talk loudly, you know, like men do. I always stood behind the door, not to eavesdrop, but I liked to hear the voices and smell the aroma of tobacco that filtered through the cracks. Later they came for dinner or tea with their sisters … Then, in 1915, they began leaving. Everyone said that the war would last only six months, thanks to some extraordinary weapons or other that … Well! Almost two years have gone by and it’s still not over. And the losses aren’t over either … cousin Manfredi died right after Ignazio … as if he had called him. And two months ago Alberto, too, disappeared at the front in … I don’t remember where. And so all the houses are closed up. Those doors draped in black are so sad. Then there was Alessandra’s tragedy, poor child: she was Ignazio’s fiancée.’

She stopped talking, and her head felt heavy on my shoulder.

‘Are you asleep?’

‘No. Why haven’t you asked me about Alessandra?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘It’s really true what Maman says. You were born for the convent. You’re not at all curious. But me, I’m curious about everything! Is it a sin?’

‘Why should it be a sin? Come on, cheer up, don’t be so sad. And to show you it’s not a sin, I’ll admit…’

‘Address me familiarly, as “tu”.’

‘I’ll admit that I’m curious about Alessandra too. So?’

‘But you’re asking without being really interested! Ask me properly! Otherwise I’ll think it’s a sin.’

‘Would you please tell me … What is the tragedy that concerns Alessandra?’

‘Address me as “tu”.’

‘All right, so tell me about it.’

‘She killed herself when she found out that Ignazio was paralysed.’

‘Dear God! How did she kill herself? May God forgive her! This is definitely a sin.’

‘We never knew. It’s a mystery. Some say she starved herself to death, some say she poisoned herself, some say…’

‘What?’

‘It’s terrible, but some say — and it seems that this is really the truth — that she hanged herself in the bathroom with a rope. Yes, a rope.’

As she spoke, she clung to me and hid her face in my neck. Was it an embrace? Was it possible that she also felt those shivers? I, too, had done that with Mother Leonora. So then she hadn’t been a coward after all; it was just because I was a child that she behaved that way. Now I was Mother Leonora, and like her I had to be prudent. But how to stop the little hand that innocently grasped my breast, or rather the bands that bound my bosom?

‘What on earth are you wearing under your smock, Modesta? It feels like a cuirass! Let me see…’

‘No, no, Principessina , it’s not permitted. Those are the bands that all the novices wear.’

‘Oh! Why? Won’t you answer?… I see. I can feel that your breasts are bigger than mine. It’s so that they don’t show, for the sake of modesty.’

‘Exactly. No, don’t do that. Don’t loosen them, Beatrice. Besides, you’re tickling me.’

‘Strange; I’m not ticklish there. You don’t believe me? Put your hand here. You see? I’m not ticklish. It makes me feel warm. When I was little I would always put my hand on my tata ’s breast to fall asleep … I’m sleepy! Will you let me put my hand there?’

It was hopeless to try and stop her. Her quick little hand had found an opening between one binding strip and the other, in part because I didn’t fasten them as tightly as in the convent, and now she was holding a breast in her palm. Supported by her hand that way, it looked like Saint Agatha’s severed breast. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see those fingers now playing with my nipple, plunging me into a prolonged shiver … Poor Mother Leonora, what she must have gone through! Motionless as she had been, I let myself come agonizingly. Don’t let the child notice, for God’s sake, don’t let her see!.. She fell asleep like that, clutching my breast. From the tall windows the moon peered in, suspicious: under her spiteful gaze Beatrice’s hair shone like silver. I didn’t know what to do. The effort to resist caressing her was so strong that I felt as tired as I did when I used to run through the reeds all day looking for Tuzzu. Beneath the moon’s gaze Tuzzu stared at me, the wounds of his eyes bleeding a blue sea …

‘ D’accordo ca nenti pisi, picciridda, ma non poi stari cca’ tuttu ’u santu jornu, e poi t’haiu a purtari in vrazza menzu addurmintata … It’s true you don’t weigh a thing, little girl, but you can’t stay here the whole blessed day and then make me have to carry you in my arms, half asleep…’

Sleep tugged at my hair, my forehead … nenti pisa ’sta picciridda , weightless, this little girl is: a small kitten on my lap. Either I had grown taller or she was smaller than normal. How old could she be? I don’t know what’s happening anymore, Tuzzu, I’m sleepy and muddled, confused by Ignazio’s eyes winking sweetly and malevolently in the darkness, more malevolent than the moon. They weren’t the eyes of a boy, but those of a grown man. Her brother? How could it be? Should I wake her? I didn’t dare. Sleep there? She would catch cold.

‘ Are you taking care of the Principessina? Be careful, you know! The Principessina must absolutely not catch cold. Her health is delicate, very delicate! ’

‘Signorina, Signorina Modesta! Oh, thank goodness I found you! I was looking for you. It’s supper time. You know the Principessina is delicate, delicate and distracted, as the Princess says, and must be looked after. She even forgets to eat when she’s reading or roaming around the house … Oh, she’s sleeping! Oh dear God, Signorina Modesta, you have no idea, you can’t imagine the worry she causes us. Always having to look for her! Yes, yes, I’ll help you carry her. This always happens when she comes to this room! I even took the liberty of suggesting to the Princess that this room be kept locked. And you know what she told me? In this house, we don’t lock anything up. If Cavallina wants to break her neck running through the garden or wants to sleep with Ignazio, she’s welcome to! Here, everyone is his own master, free to live and die as he pleases. One of a kind, the Princess! But I firmly believe that this room should be locked. Listen, I’m not a superstitious ignoramus, as the Princess calls the village women, but this room is maleficent for the Principessina . Evil! When she comes in here, after hours and hours I find her crying or else asleep, all dishevelled like she is now. It’s not natural. Good thing we have you here now! Now the responsibility isn’t all mine, like it was before…’