Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

The pain was gone now and her father seemed happy in his sleep. Soon he would wake up and would certainly want to do again the thing that had made him so happy. Mama always said: ‘It’s a misfortune to be born a woman; once the blood comes, goodbye peace and contentment! All they want is their own pleasure, they quarter you from top to bottom, never satisfied.’

Before, I was a child, but now I’m a woman, and I have to be careful: he’s already moving. I have to get away. But where? It’s dark outside.

The toilet? All I had to do was turn the key and take refuge in Mama’s arms. But no sound came from that door, plus Mama had never hugged me; she only hugged Tina. Even now, pressing an ear to the wood, I could hear them sleeping in each other’s arms. I could hear Tina’s heavy breathing and Mama’s lighter breath, just like every night in the big bed: me at the foot of the bed and those two clasped together up there. No, she wouldn’t open the door; she just wanted to know if even there on the floor they were hugging. Maybe she could see through the cracks with the lamp. Nothing, you couldn’t see anything … I have to wake them up, I have to wake them with the lamplight … All I do is set the lamp down near the door and remove the glass that protects the flame: like the sun, the flame blazes up and scorches my forehead, making me step back. Almost immediately it creeps swiftly along the parched wood. It hasn’t rained for months.

Tuzzu had been wrong to save Tina from the fire that time. He had been wrong. He should have saved only me. But this time he wasn’t there, and even if it meant dying for fear of those flames, that smoke that was nearly choking me, I would not call for help, or scream.

‘Poor creature! Poor child! If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears, I wouldn’t believe it! Leave her be, maresciallo , leave her alone. Don’t harass her anymore. Can’t you see how she’s trembling? What more do you want to know? You’ve been questioning her for three days and regrettably, it’s all so clear! So terrible it feels like we’re living in the Middle Ages instead of the year 1909. That’s because God-fearing people no longer run the country, and the godless ones…’

‘Forgive me, Mother, but politics has nothing to do with this. With your permission, during the past three days I have only been doing my duty. Unfortunately these things happen a hell of a lot … Oh! Forgive me, Voscenza , 4Reverend Mother, I only meant that … I, well, yes, I’ve seen so very many cases that I can’t keep count anymore. It’s my duty to get to the bottom of the incident, to protect this creature as well.’

‘Oh, Holy Virgin! Be quiet, be quiet! Can’t you see that the moment she hears you speak she has another attack?’

This sweet, gentle voice — can’t you hear how sweet it is? — is the voice of Mother Leonora suggesting that I faint. It was easy: all I had to do was squeeze my eyelids shut and make tight fists, until my eyes began to tear and my nails, digging into the flesh of my palms, made me tremble like Tina did when Mama went out. I had learned it from her, and like her — I could see her stamped on my tightly shut eyelids — I was really trembling.

‘Have you no heart at all, maresciallo ? Leave her be! Didn’t you hear what Dr Milazzo said? She mustn’t be reminded of anything that happened that infernal night, nothing! The child must forget … You see? As soon as she saw you she grew pale as a little corpse, and as soon as you mentioned that nasty business … there, you see, she’s having another attack. What more do you need to know? Everything was confirmed by Tuzzu and his father when they brought her here, and afterwards, on several other occasions…’

‘With your permission, Mother, not quite everything.’

‘What do you mean? Those are just details.’

‘But we haven’t found the man who claimed to be her father, neither among her mother and sister’s remains, nor … And, well, you see, Mother, we have to find him!’

‘It’s up to you to find him. You found the jacket, didn’t you? It was even blue velvet, like this poor tormented child said. In the name of Saint Agatha who suffered torment like this little girl, don’t torture her any further! Can’t you see how she’s thrashing about? Go away, in the name of God who is our witness! You have no Christian soul, you carabinieri . And you, Sister Costanza, instead of standing there frozen like a mummy, help me lay Modesta on the bed. That’s it. Poor child! Do you feel what a dead weight she is? This is surely an epileptic seizure. She didn’t suffer from them before, from what Tuzzu told us, but this tragedy has ruined her for ever.’

Once again Mother Leonora’s voice let me know what I had to do: clench my fists even tighter so that the nails would drive more deeply into the flesh. Enduring this pain was better than answering that man with the black moustache, his eyes hard as stones: if he kept questioning me, he might make me say something I didn’t want to say. My eyelids hurt so much by now that I began to scream loudly, my cries genuine. So genuine that those two officers, confused by my tears and by Mother Leonora’s sweet supplications, vanished amid the frantic swishing of the long skirts those strange, tall women wore. Only when all was silent, except for Mother Leonora’s faint breathing, did I relax my fingers, but slowly, so she wouldn’t notice. I had to calm down slowly, so she wouldn’t become aware of my strategy. I had to follow the suggestions of that sweet voice. What was she saying now? What was it I had to do?

‘There now, there my child. Those dreadful men are gone and I am here with you. They won’t harass you anymore, my poor little martyr, body and soul tormented like our patron Saint Agatha! That’s it, take your time, don’t worry. Don’t be afraid, the wicked men are gone.’

I knew it, but I also knew that it was not time to open my eyes. This she had not yet told me.

‘They’re gone. Don’t you believe me? You’re right not to believe anyone anymore, after what you’ve been through. Yes, you’re right. But I will restore your faith. You must believe me. Open your eyes. Give me the consolation of seeing in your beautiful eyes that you believe me.’

There, she said it. I could open my eyes at last. One moment more and I would open them. She had guided me not only with her voice, but also with her smooth white hands, even smoother than that downy soft blanket, whiter and more fragrant than those sheets that had magically replaced the coarse grimy ones in the big bed where I had always slept before … before the blood had come. Fortunately, I had withstood my fear of the fire without running to Tuzzu. If I hadn’t had the strength to hold out, Tuzzu — with those legs of his that could run like a hare — would certainly have saved those two again.

‘There, that’s it. Look at me with those beautiful eyes. Beautiful and limpid. Think no more about that fire that clouds your gaze. Don’t think about it anymore; pray instead. Pray to Saint Agatha to perform a miracle, to make you forget everything and heal your tormented body and soul.’

‘Who is Saint Agatha?’

‘Oh Jesus and Mary, don’t you know? The things one sees in this pitiable country of ours! They haven’t taught you a thing, not a thing. Nothing but misery and suffering. If you promise me you’ll do what Dr Milazzo said…’

‘What did he say?’

‘He told you to forget, forget everything. If you do that, I will teach you…’

The voice promised a warm, gentle lullaby of fragrant sheets and daring adventures of queens and regents, sieges, wars and exploits. In Mother Leonora’s sweet lilting voice, armies advanced with gold and silver breastplates. Enemy troops and savage hordes fled, driven off by her hand, rising toward the sun like the wing of a dove. Dreadful, wicked men, multitudes of godless individuals to be subjugated by the righteous law dictated by the Cross. The small room smelling of sugared almonds was populated with knights and paladins, saints and virgins consecrated to God, who could not be turned against their faith by anyone, despite snares and persecutions. Saint Agatha was very beautiful. I was right to ask who she was. Her severed breasts on a tray made me shudder even more than Mother Leonora’s delicate, gentle hands, which caressed me whenever I had an epileptic seizure.