Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

I slept so deeply, under Mimmo’s watchful eye, that when I opened my eyes I was afraid the Princess’s visit had been only a dream. Especially since someone was crying in the room.

‘It’s horrible, horrible! I can’t even think about it, Modesta. You shouldn’t have agreed. You can’t sacrifice yourself like that! It’s all the fault of that crazy doctor and Don Antonio. It’s dreadful! Why must your goodness be repaid this way?’

Beatrice never understood a thing. If she were more intelligent, as Jacopo had wanted her to be, I would have made her my accomplice. It’s hard to do battle by yourself. But there was no other way. I had to continue embroidering that canvas alone, to protect myself and to protect her.

‘It’s my destiny, Beatrice.’

‘But you’ll sleep with him!’

‘It’s my destiny. Don’t be upset. Think about the fact that this pious sacrifice will allow us to be together for ever. Have you thought about that?’

I was sure she hadn’t thought about it, and in fact:

‘It’s true! I hadn’t thought about it.’

‘Darling Beatrice, why don’t you try and think of the bright side of whatever happens? Nothing is completely negative in life.’

‘God, Modesta, you talk like Uncle Jacopo! I’ve noticed it for months now. I didn’t say anything because I was afraid you might get mad.’

Beatrice was scatterbrained, yet at times discerning. The similarity that her little head had grasped was dangerous; best to change the subject.

‘Will you come to the wedding?’

‘Modesta, no! Don’t ask that of me. I could never. I’ve never seen the “thing”, and besides Nonna said that no one must see him, even if he’s getting married.’

So much the better. If they had seen Ippolito they would have realized that he wasn’t as monstrous as their imagination had drawn him. Never refuse to see the unpleasant aspects of life; by remaining unseen, they are actually magnified in the imagination, transformed into irrepressible demons.

‘There, you see, you withdraw from me, just like Uncle Jacopo, following who knows what thoughts. You’ve changed a lot, Modesta.’

Luckily she always warned me. This inability to keep her mouth shut, as the Princess said, was convenient.

‘It’s not that I’ve changed, Beatrice, it’s that soon I will have yet another cross to bear and I’m preparing for it. And please, don’t go on crying like that. How would I manage to bear all this if you were far away?’

‘Far away? What do you mean?’

‘The Princess told me that if you continue crying, she’ll send you off to some boarding school in Switzerland. You know that when she says she’ll do something, she does it.’

Thanks to the Princess, the crying stopped. It was unbearable for me, too, to see her that way. Now she dried her tears and tried to smile.

‘Oh God, Modesta, for God’s sake, I won’t cry anymore. I promise you! Tell her I won’t cry anymore!’

She appealed to me. I was the one who maintained contact with the Princess, now, and in just one year! Careful, Modesta, one must be cautious with power. Above all, never lose old friends, as Shakespeare says. 24Beatrice’s humble way of imploring me could signal disaffection on her part.

‘My darling Beatrice, let’s not think about unpleasant things. Come now, smile. When you smile, everything becomes beautiful for me.’ Where had I read that nonsense that young girls are so fond of? Still, it came in handy.

‘When you smile, the sun shines for me even if the sky is cloudy. Come, hold me close. In your arms I will find the courage to face the painful task that awaits me.’

‘Oh, Modesta, how gentle you are with me again, and what sweet things you say! You’ve been so serious these three weeks that I was beginning to be afraid of you.’

There, she’d said it. I had to rid her of that fear to have her as an ally, even an unsuspecting one. Fear and humiliation are the seeds of hatred and antagonism. And even envy, so they said. It would be difficult, but now that I was beginning to have some power, I had to find a way, like a wise old monarch, not to attract too much envy, even from the servants.

After allowing myself to be comforted by Beatrice’s embrace, I got up.

‘Now leave me, Beatrice. I have to pray and find strength.’

Those of you who are reading are surely already thinking that my triumph would necessarily require something very distasteful: sleeping with an individual who was disabled, if not monstrously ugly. The fact is that you are reading this story, and you are ahead of me, whereas I’m living it. I am still living it.

All at once I realize what’s in store for me. What did that monster do with all the girls who had been brought to his room? And whom could I ask? Certainly not Pietro. The doctor? How could I? He too was a little goody-goody. My saintly reputation did not allow me even to graze certain subjects. A cold sweat began sliding down my back and for a moment I began to have doubts about what had earlier seemed to be a victory. Instinctively, old habit made me fall to my knees with my head in my hands. I wasn’t praying — don’t worry — I was just trying to overcome the wave of disgust that clouded my brain. I must not give in to that disgust. Besides, if so many girls had been in that room and had survived, I too could do it. I tried to remember one of those names. Carmela, that’s it, the one who was Ippolito’s favourite, according to the doctor …

‘Forgive me for disturbing you, signorina . The Princess has asked me to tell you that for the ceremony you must wear the dress that Mother Leonora wore when she became the bride of Christ. If you please, I have come to take it, to freshen it.’

Argentovivo had never been so respectful. She spoke more slowly now, keeping her eyes lowered, and didn’t bustle about the room like a madwoman anymore.

‘May I take the dress, signorina ?’

Of course. She was waiting for my order. That waiting restored the self-confidence I had lost. I was part of the family now. And to bolster that self-confidence I let her wait a few minutes. Her respectful stillness and bowed head completely calmed my tremors. And with composure, my ideas began to flow clearly again. At least I no longer had to fear the walls, the drapes, the servants of that house, as I had in the past.

‘One moment, Argentovivo — I have a question to ask you. Do you know a certain Carmela Licari?’

‘No, I don’t know her. She’s just a peasant who lives down in the shanties. As you know, we in this house have no contact with those kinds of people.’

‘You may take the dress.’

Curtsying — before making a move she even curtsied now — she ventured to say, ‘But the signorina mustn’t think about that one. Those women were paid to come and…’

‘I didn’t ask for your opinion.’

The Princess would have replied that way, and the effect was immediate.

‘Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean … Forgive me if I disturbed you. Riverisco , my respects, signorina .’

* * *

It was risky, but I had to know. Luckily I hadn’t spent a single penny of the money the Princess had given me each month since I’d taken over the management of the house.

When the sun was high, thereby ensuring that all the men were in the fields and that everyone in the villa was shut in to escape the intense heat, I put on an old smock, covered my head, like the farm women, with the least conspicuous kerchief I could find, and ran down to the white walls behind the trees. There was an opening guarded only by the dog Menelik, who knew me, and in a moment I was out. I had never been outside, and a sloping expanse of wheat, swaying in the wind as far as the eye could see, lashed my legs and brow. The wind was strong, and I couldn’t move. I wasn’t used to walking without a wall to mark the boundaries of the outside world. And to think that as a child all I did was wander through the lava plain, the chiana … Those years in the convent and in the villa had weakened me. I couldn’t even look at that dancing expanse of gold. For a moment I thought of turning back. No! I had to get over it. And lowering my head, eyes fixed only on the white shanties that could be seen down at the bottom, I started running as though pursued, pausing only when my hands found a wall where I could regain the equilibrium I had lost. It was a drinking trough, teeming with donkeys and children.