Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

With growing dread I watched that poor thing’s eyes as he followed Inès’s lips and then looked at me with a kind of satisfaction at hearing his aunt, as he now called her, tell of his accomplishments. He had a strong sense of family, the poor creature. I tried to laugh silently. But the thought that he had been lost to life only as long as they had kept him locked up, and the recognition of the progress that he had made even at his age just because someone took pains with him, brought sobs to my throat; I had to return quickly to my room, where I wept for hours and hours. Was I crying for Ippolito?

The sea was waiting. I looked at it with the childlike gaze of Eriprando, wide-eyed, roving. It was summer, and I had to steal a bit of freedom from that grudging sea. To do so I had to understand it, touch it with my body as Beatrice was able to do. It was curious, but as she ran along the beach Beatrice barely limped anymore, like when she danced. Making up my mind to enter the water was the hardest thing I’d had to do so far. The sea was harsh, and rejected me, resentfully. I struggled to grasp that fluid body that eluded me, surprising me on all sides. I kept losing my balance, hurriedly retreating on all fours to find myself coughed up on the beach, breathless.

‘Forgive me for intruding, signorina , but you will never learn if you continue fighting the waves like that. You have to surrender to the sea. I’ve been watching you for ten minutes and … actually I meant to ask you how to get to Villa Suvarita. I’m looking for Princess Brandiforti.’

A voice whose soft r’s rolled down on the sand without disturbing the silence made me raise my eyes, still stinging from the salt, but all I could see was a white shirt gleaming in the sun.

‘Pardon my impertinence, signorina , but you need a swimming instructor and I need a villa that I can’t seem to find. The villa of a certain—’

‘I heard you. I am the Princess. Go ahead, speak.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t think … But what am I saying? Sorry again. I didn’t mean to disturb you. If you will be so kind as to tell me where the villa is, I will go and wait for you there.’

‘Why, were you looking for me or the villa?’

‘You, but … just a moment, I’ll put on my jacket. It was very hot in the woods.’

‘Well then?’

‘Oh! Carlo Civardi, physician. The attorney, Santangelo, sent me. I see that you are looking at me doubtfully. I’m used to it and to reassure you I will tell you that I am not as young as I look. In a month I’ll be twenty-eight. But if my appearance doesn’t inspire your confidence, don’t worry. I’m used to that too. I understand. All in all, I came with very little hope. I like Sicily very much, but unfortunately I see that here, too, the preconceived notion of in senectute sapientia prevails, even more so than in my region.’

‘And where are you from?’

‘From Milan, Princess, a very beautiful city, but somewhat damp. To be frank, I’ve had some mild discomfort in my joints that politely suggests that I be wary of the poetic mists of the north, and that has, let’s say, driven me south in search of the sun. How beautiful this island of yours is! I travelled it far and wide before stopping here in Catania.’

‘And why did you stop here in Catania?’

‘The usual story, common and simple: my uncle is Dr Lenzi, a friend of Attorney Santangelo. I work with him. I see that you’re puzzled. I’ll go back to my uncle: his hair is completely white and this obviously inspires confidence. I see that fortunately you’re smiling, even though it’s at me. I was beginning to think that what Santangelo says about you was true.’

‘What does Santangelo say?’

‘Well, that you have an iron will. That…’

‘… That I don’t trust anyone, that I’m cold, aloof and tightfisted.’

‘Well, not exactly.’

‘Yes, exactly. Santangelo is right.’

‘Well then, if you will allow me, I won’t disturb you any further.’

‘Where are you going? Not only do you look like a young boy, but you give up quickly like a little boy.’

‘You think so?’

‘Why don’t you disguise yourself as an old man?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Like actors do: eye glasses, whitened hair, a fake beard. In fact, why don’t you grow a beard?’

‘But I have a moustache! Besides, up north hardly anyone wears a beard anymore. It’s more sanitary.’

‘Really? The problem is that men still wear them here. Why don’t you grow one? It would help you look at least twenty-four or twenty-five, instead of eighteen.’

‘Oh, dear God, only eighteen? I see. Forgive me for bothering you.’

‘Just a minute, please. Do you know how to swim?’

‘What?’

‘If you know how to swim and will teach me, I’ll overlook your age and entrust the Prince to your care.’

‘Blackmail?’

‘Take it any way you like. I must learn how to swim.’

‘It’s not very dignified for a doctor, but I can’t afford to refuse. I have only two patients, and on top of it all they don’t pay … So then, may I see the Prince? Is it something serious?’

‘No, no! It’s just that his old doctor died. You may see him tomorrow, but come with a bathing suit. Now please leave me. Talking in the sun is tiring. Good day!’

As you probably realized, not knowing how to behave with that young man, I had adopted the abrupt manner of the Princess, God rest her soul. It always worked. After a moment’s uncertainty, I heard him stumbling hastily into the woods.

I had learned so many things from that grand old woman! I felt her rise up inside me in her proud solitude, while Modesta, intimidated by that stranger, clung to her. Could it be that Gaia also shouted so much because she was sometimes afraid of people, just as I had been afraid of that well-spoken doctor? What was the reason for that fear? I close my eyes to question the past and a procession of nuns, old men, and lay sisters with their ageless faces comes marching toward me. The doctor was the first young man I had ever met. I had done the right thing asking him to return. I had to interrupt that procession that now seemed restful to me in comparison with that boy’s intense gaze. To my astonishment, I realized that I was afraid of his young age. But I was only twenty-one and, fearful or not, I had to meet his youth head-on with mine.

‘Who was that, Modesta?’

‘The new doctor.’

‘I don’t believe it. He looks like a boy. And besides, even if he were a doctor, is that the way to receive him, Modesta? You shouldn’t have!’

I find myself on my feet slapping her, but not hard enough to hurt her, like the first time. I now know how to deal with those prejudices which, from the depths of twenty years of custom and convention, resurfaced darkly in the blue lake of her eyes. Crying calms her, and whether it’s because she’s afraid of me or because my slaps enable her to feel justified in her own eyes, she accepts life and is happy again.

* * *

Beatrice now laughs with the doctor, whom she didn’t want to have anything to do with earlier; they’re amused by my clumsy attempts to stay afloat. I must look really comical as I founder in the water just a few yards from shore. They swim away blithely, confidently cutting through the sea and laughing, but meanwhile I manage to float and do a few strokes, provided I can see the bottom. Who knows when I’ll be able to go out where all you can see is an expanse of dark water probed by the sun? For hours, from the boat I had watched those slow tentacles patiently plumbing those mysterious depths. Another month or two — autumn was still far off, fortunately! — and with the help of that young man I would do it … They’re laughing again … they’ve reached the rock of the Prophet. That rock had become my aspiration. I studied, read, took care of Eriprando, but deep inside me that rock rose up like a promise.