Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

‘It is! If only Signor Carlo could make him use his head!’

‘When Melo comes back, we’ll have him talk with Carlo, Stella.’

‘I can’t stand any more of this male frenzy! What need was there for him to rush off to Rome, and then to that America, which is even farther away?’

‘For his inheritance, Stella.’

‘But what need is there? We’re not poor. Physical separation leads to true distance!’

‘He’ll come back, Stella.’

‘ Voscenza comforts me, Princess, like these angelic tears that God decided to rain down on us from heaven. Such blessed coolness! Jacopo has stopped sweating, the poor picciriddu !’

Stella, her face faintly clouded with anxiety. Stella, with her dark slanted eyes like slits of polished stone, two bright stars even amid the din of the storm. The rain shakes the walls of the house, violently at times, then softly. The corridors and stairs glide silently under my steps. A few moments to reflect on the day, on how Prando has grown in just a few weeks. ‘ Jacopo’s arrival made him the older one overnight ’, and Mattia slowly opens the door, smiling. He’s always smiling now.

‘I didn’t hear you, Mattia. How did you get here?’

‘On Orlando. I’m sick of the motorcycle! My father was right: all that noise hurts the ears and doesn’t let you hear an enemy approaching. It makes you an easy target for anyone who has it in for you. In just three days, Orlando saved me from a well-planned ambush.’

‘Who was it?’

‘The same ones who earlier had their sights set on Carmine. I’m the master now, and I have to be careful. Cancia la vita quannu ’u padri mori , your life changes when your father dies. In just a short time, Mattia has aged, and now he must plant his own roots in the land. You have to help me, Modesta, you have to teach me!’

‘What do you want to know? If you can fill your father’s shoes?’

‘You’ve understood me.’

‘Carmine didn’t have confidence in you.’

‘And you?’

‘I sense Carmine’s strength in you, but I can’t erase his doubts about you from my mind.’

‘And to think that I was the one who wanted to make him doubt me!’

‘Why?’

‘Who knows! Maybe it was a way to assert myself; what do I know? Make him have reservations about me at least, shake that bossy self-assurance he had toward everyone. But now that he’s dead — who could have imagined it? — I feel his misgivings hanging over me. Now I can only know from you, and maybe not even from you. I have no one.’

‘What about Vincenzo?’

‘Vincenzo! If only Carmine were alive to see his darling blue-eyed boy! The mild, obedient boy has become a fury.’

‘How can that be?’

‘Clearly it was only fear that made him respect him before. Since Carmine died, Vincenzo has done nothing but curse his memory. He started drinking the day of the funeral. And now he’s left the house. I’m cold, Modesta.’

‘Hold me; I’ll warm you up. What’s wrong, Mattia?’

‘Don’t look at me. I can’t hold back these tears. I’m not a man, Modesta. Don’t look at me.’

For the first time, I feel compassion for his youth and mine, but only for a moment, because I quickly recognize the traps that lie concealed by that tenderness. ‘ Youth is more astute than old age and knows how to use every means. ’ Only a moment, and already he presses his advantage.

‘Tell me you love me, Modesta.’

‘Be good, Mattia.’

‘Say it!’

‘The word you’re asking me for, Mattia, is one that must be used cautiously.’

‘But I love you.’

‘You need me.’

‘And that’s not love?’

‘In time you’ll see, Mattia.’

‘You’re driving me crazy, Modesta! Say it: I’m not worthy of you.’

‘I have two children and a husband, Mattia. Don’t forget that.’

‘A husband! That animal! Just say the word, and I’ll rid you of that cross.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ll kill him for you and I’ll marry you myself.’

‘Try it and I’ll shoot your hands off!’

‘If you marry me, you’ll own all the lands again, and with you by my side I could defy everyone. Marry me. I’ve given you so many assurances these past few months.’

It was true, but his youth was not my future and I didn’t want land. People marry only out of need … Those reassurances were only the usual silken ties to bind you more tightly, afterwards. I sensed it in the force of his hands which, without meaning to, were nearly snapping my wrists. Don’t lose your equilibrium, Modesta, don’t listen to the warmth of those hands. Look him in the eye, where already a dark prison is outlined in his honeyed gaze. And to escape the honey that nourished my senses, I run to Carlo:

‘… And to think, Carlo, that when I met you, I thought all young men were like you. Dreamer! I saw my future among many Carlos, with whom I could talk, grow, make love.’

‘Well, there are some: Jose, for example. He and his companion are different. In Milan, they were an example for us, our pride and admiration, so to speak. Just today, he wrote me a little note that was half serious and half facetious, in which, between the lines, he calls me a traitor because of my “Puccini-like” dream of marriage: “ Un bel dì vedremo…” He also says that between the two genuinely “Italiot” evils, he always prefers D’Annunzio.’

‘Jose, Jose! It sounds like the same old story! And the others? Why don’t you talk to me about the other comrades? Are they all like that Pasquale who is always following you around, though you don’t want to tell me?’

‘Pasquale is a good comrade, Modesta. Let’s not lose sight of reality: we’re in Sicily!’

‘But did you see him at home with his wife? Did you see how he treats her? What am I saying? He doesn’t pay any attention to her at all. During those few moments when she appears, poor Elisa seems invisible!’

‘Yes, actually you pointed that out to me…’

‘You’re frowning, Carlo. Why?’

‘Because I have to admit that before I met you I hadn’t noticed these things … Thinking back, you’re right. I must say that even in Milan he was like that, only I wasn’t aware of it. There were so many more urgent things to think about.’

‘Do you think my concern is too personal? Tell me the truth.’

‘No. It’s just that now too there are more important things to deal with.’

‘You’re right.’

‘What you’re after, Modesta, will come later. When Bebel’s book replaces Cuore , 57when, as Maria says, instead of saints on the calendar, there will be the names of Marie Curie, Louis Pasteur…’

‘And if it doesn’t happen, Carlo?’

‘We will continue to cultivate our garden, as Voltaire says, and wait for the seed to bear fruit. Look at that sunset, Modesta! Let’s go for a walk before the divine Beatrice, followed by her handmaiden — do you know that Argentovivo has become very charming? — comes out of the kitchen and overwhelms us with delicious morsels. She’s learning how to cook. She says she wants to be the one to cook for the baby when it’s born. I remember my mother, too…’

‘The wind has picked up, Carlo. Let’s run! I love the wind. Up there with the nuns there was never any wind. Everything was still, as though submerged in dense, grey water. Maybe we were nothing more than lifeless fish in an aquarium.’

‘There! the poet dozing beneath the tough exterior of the pastoral carusa is emerging. Even your face changes. How do you do it?’

‘Carmine used to say that I was like a troubadour, and Tuzzu too, I think … Memories fade, Carlo. It’s terrible!’