After the Divorce by Grazia Deledda (buy e reader .txt) 📕

pull your hair out by the roots; your husband isn’t in the galleys yet!”

Giovanna dropped her head, and began to cry again in a subdued, hopeless way, heartbreaking to listen to. “Costantino, Costantino,” she moaned in the tone of one bewailing the dead, “I shall never see you again, never again! Those mad dogs have seized you and bound you fast, and they will never let you go; and our house will be empty, and the bed cold, and the family scattered. Oh, my beloved! my lamb! you are dead for this world. May those who have done it die the same death!”

Aunt Porredda, distracted by Giovanna’s grief, and unable to think of anything more to say, went out on the gallery, and began calling: “Bachissia Era! come up here; your daughter is losing her mind!”

A step was heard on the outer stair. Aunt Porredda turned back into the room, and behind her appeared a tall, tragic-looking figure all in black. The gaunt, yellow face, shaped like that of some bird of prey, was framed in the folds of a black handkerchief; two brilliant green spots indicated the eyes, deep set, overhung by fierce, heavy brows, and surrounded by livid circles. Her mere presence seemed to exercise a subduing effect upon the daughter.

“Get up!” she said in a harsh voice.

Giovanna arose. She was tall and lithe, though cast in a heavy mould and having enormous hips. Beneath the short, circular petticoat, adorned below the waist with a band of purple, and with a broad, green hem, appeared two little feet shod in elastic gaiters, and the suggestion of a pair of shapely legs.

“What are you worrying these good people for?” demanded the mother. “Have done now; come down to supper, and don’t frighten the children, or throw a wet blanket over the happiness of these good people.”

The “happiness of these good people” was in allusion to the arrival of the son of the house, a law student, home for the holidays.

Giovanna, recognising that her mother meant to be obeyed, quieted down without more ado. Pulling the woollen kerchief from her head, and thereby disclosing a cap of antique brocade, from whence escaped waves of coal-black hair, she turned towards a basin of water standing on a chair, and began to bathe her face.

The two women looked at one another, and Aunt Porredda, taking her lips between her right thumb and forefinger in sign of silence, noiselessly left the room.

The other, accepting this hint, said nothing more, and when Giovanna had finished bathing, and had set her hair in order, silently led the way down the outer stair.

Night had fallen; warm, still, profound. The solitary yellow star had been followed by a multitude of glittering asterisks, and the Milky Way lay like a scarf of gauze embroidered with silver spangles. The air was heavy with the penetrating odour of new-mown hay.

In the courtyard, the crickets, hidden away in the trelliswork, kept up their shrill chirping; the ruminative horse still stamped with his iron-shod hoofs upon the stones, and from afar floated the melancholy note of a song.

The kitchen opened on the courtyard, as did a ground-floor bedroom sometimes used as a dining-room. Both doors were standing open.

In the kitchen, beside the lighted stove, stood Aunt Porredda engaged in preparing the macaroni for supper. A child, clad in a loose black frock, fair, untidy, and barefooted, was quarrelling with a stout little urchin, fat and florid like his grandmother.

The girl was swearing roundly, naming every devil in turn; while the boy tried to pinch her bare legs.

“Stop it,” said Aunt Porredda. “There now, will you leave off, you naughty children?”

“Mamma Porru, she’s cursing me; she said: ‘Go to the devil who gave you birth.’ ”

“Minnia! what a way to talk!”

“Well, he stole my purse, the one with the picture of the Pope, that Uncle Paolo brought me⁠—”

“It’s not so, I didn’t!” shouted the boy. “You’d better not be talking about stealing, Minnia,” he added with a meaning look.

The girl became suddenly quiet, as though a spell had been cast over her, but presently her tormentor, seizing a long stick, tried to hook the curved handle around her legs. Minnia began to cry, and the grandmother faced about, ladle in hand.

“I declare, I’ll beat you with this ladle, you wretched children! Just you wait a moment!” she cried, running at them. The children made a dash for the courtyard, and collided violently with Giovanna and her mother.

“What’s all this? What’s all this?”

“Oh, those children, they’ll drive me wild! I believe the devil is in them,” said Aunt Porredda from the doorway.

At this moment a slim little figure in black emerged from the main gateway leading into the street, calling excitedly: “They are coming, Grandmother; here they are now!”

“Well, let them come; you would do better, Grazia, to pay some attention to your brother and sister; they have been fighting like two cocks.”

Grazia made no reply, but taking the iron candlestick from Aunt Bachissia she blew out the light, and hid it behind a bench in the kitchen, saying in a low voice: “You ought to be ashamed, Grandmother, to have such a looking candlestick, now that Uncle Paolo is here.”

“Uncle Paolo! Well, I declare! Do you suppose he was brought up on gold?”

“He has been to Rome.”

“To Rome! The idea! They only don’t have lights like that there, because they have to buy their oil by the pennyworth. Here, we can use as much oil as we want.”

“You must be green if you believe that!” said the girl; then, suddenly catching the sound of her grandfather’s and uncle’s voices, she flew to meet them, trembling with excitement.

“Good evening, Giovanna; Aunt Bachissia, how goes it with you?” said the hearty voice of the student. “I? Very well, the Lord be praised! I was sorry to hear of your misfortune. Never mind, courage! Who knows? The sentence is tomorrow, is it not?”

He led the way into the room where the supper-table was laid, followed by the