Castellinaria, and Other Sicilian Diversions Part 3

"And if it comes to that," I said, "why shouldn't we include you and Brancaccia?"

"Bravo!" shouted Peppino, "and Carmelo also. Festa rimandata per tutti!"

A chair for Brancaccia and the baby was tied in the cart among a mult.i.tude of parcels and baskets about which I thought it better not to inquire. Peppino and I sat on the floor in front, like the driver and his mate on an ill.u.s.trated post-card, with our feet dangling down between the shafts among the mule's hind legs. Carmelo started us off and got in behind, and we drove to the sea, not the way to the station and the port, but by the road that descends on the other side of the headland. We pa.s.sed by groves of lemon, star-scattered with fruit and blossom and enclosed in rough walls of black lava; by the grey-green straggling of the p.r.i.c.kly pears and by vines climbing up their canes. We caught glimpses of promontories dotted with pink and white cottages and of the thread of foam that outlines the curve of the bay where a train was busily puffing along by the stony, brown beach, showing how much a little movement will tell in a still landscape. Behind the s.h.i.+mmering olives, first on one side, then on the other as we turned with the zig-zags of the dusty road, was the purple blue of the sea flecked with the white sails of fis.h.i.+ng-boats and with the crests of whiter waves. Every one we met looked at us and admired the splendour of the cart and the sparkling newness of the harness until they caught sight of Brancaccia and the baby, and then they saw nothing but their beauty. We met the man who was riding up from the fis.h.i.+ng village with baskets of fish for the town because it was Friday. Peppino and Carmelo disputed as to the amount he was carrying, and agreed at last that it must be about a hundred kilogrammes, partly by the quant.i.ty and partly because it had been good weather for fis.h.i.+ng; when it is bad he cannot bring more than thirty, forty or fifty.

Peppino told me that our mule was the offspring of an a.s.s and a mare.

These, he says, are better than those born of a horse and a she-a.s.s.

Mules can be male or female, and Guido Santo was a male but, except for the fact that the males are stronger than the females, the s.e.x of a creature that is incapable of reproducing itself is not a very interesting subject. Our mule was still young, and had not yet learnt the use of corners, nor how to pa.s.s things in the road. Carmelo often had to get down and continue his education. After one of these lessons he lighted his pipe with a sulphur match which tainted the morning air and offended Ricuzzu; but almost immediately we came to a forge and the blacksmith was striking a piece of iron on his anvil.

"Ricuzzu bello," said Brancaccia, "listen to the pretty music."

And Ricuzzu listened and laughed; the pleasant acid flavour of the note as it followed us corrected the sulphur, and he put up his face for a kiss. Brancaccia knew how to smooth away his troubles and how to deserve his thanks.

We pa.s.sed a boy singing, and I said how pleasant it was to hear a real Sicilian melody sung by a modern Theocritus about the delights of his own country. But Peppino soon put a stop to that. The boy was one of a theatrical company that had arrived in the town from Piedmont where the song was popular; he did not know all the words, but it contained these:

Mamma mia, dammi cento lire Che in America voglio andar.

Mother darling, give me a hundred lire For I want to be off to the States.

"Are they acting here?" I asked.

"They are reciting _Il Diavolo Verde_. You don't will go and see this evening?"

"If Brancaccia is not too tired, let us finish up Ricuzzu's festa by a visit to the theatre."

The baby was wide awake all the time, observing everything, and much interested. I said:

"I believe Ricuzzu understands that we are keeping his onomastico."

"Of course, yes," replied Peppino; "Ricuzzu very intelligent."

"I believe he even understands that it is not S. Enrico's day, and appreciates the idea of keeping his festa when it is convenient for everyone."

"Of course, yes; the idea is the thing. Always it is the idea. Did you know the idea of the girl who went to confess?"

"What is that?"

"Not now. Please expect. I am too much busy with Guido Santo. Please, when we shall be there."

On arriving at the sh.o.r.e we first found a cove where Brancaccia and Ricuzzu could be comfortable while Peppino, Carmelo and I went a little way off into a secluded place behind the rocks, undressed and bathed. We swam round and saluted the mother and child in their cove, but could not get near enough to splash them because the water was only a few inches deep near the sh.o.r.e and the proprieties had to be observed. When we were tired of swimming we came out and dressed. Then I took the baby while Peppino and Brancaccia went round into our dressing-room and he superintended her bath. Carmelo, in the meantime constructed a fireplace among the rocks and got his cooking things and all the parcels and baskets out of the cart. Peppino and Brancaccia returned, and we found a shallow, shady pool with a sandy bottom, undressed Ricuzzu, and put him into it. I observed that the baby's clothes were reefed with safety pins, but I said nothing about it, thinking the reefs could be let out when he had attained twice the age he was when they were bought. The proprieties did not matter with this bather, who soon learnt how to splash us. It may have been his padrino's vanity, but I thought he laughed loudest when he succeeded in splas.h.i.+ng me.

The couple of peperoni had swelled into a regular colazione. First, of course, we had pasta, this time it was called lingue di pa.s.seri (sparrows' tongues), they have fifty different names for it according to its size and shape, but it is always pasta. Carmelo made a sauce for it over his fire with oil, onions, extract of tomatoes, and certain herbs; the recipe is a secret which is to be imparted to Ricuzzu when he is fifteen, but I think Brancaccia has already guessed it, though she is not supposed to know. As a rule, I try to get only half as much pasta as a Sicilian takes, and of that I can only eat half, but on this occasion, either because of Carmelo's cooking or the sea breeze, or the presence of Ricuzzu, I ate it all, and it made me feel like Rinaldo after the terrible fight in which he kills the centaur and stands at the wings panting for breath.

The pasta was followed by bacon and figs--an unexpectedly delicious combination; the bacon is uncooked and cut very thin, the figs are fresh and ripe, but it would not do in England because, although one could probably find the bacon in Soho, our figs never attain to Sicilian ripeness. Carmelo then surpa.s.sed himself with a pollo alla cacciatora, after which we had a mixed fry of all sorts of fish. Peaches out of the garden and cheese followed. Also we drank Peppino's own wine made from the grapes he had planted with his own hands and trodden with his own feet, and there was coffee with the cigarettes.

I said: "I did not know Carmelo was a cook, I thought he was a coachman."

"Also is he a cook. Also the nurse of Ricuzzu. Also a waiter. Very good boy Carmelo. We took him when Letterio went away."

"And Brancaccia is not afraid to have him as Ricuzzu's nurse?"

"Afraid? No. Why?"

"Because he has been in prison for stabbing his friend."

"Oh yes, in prison. But his friend was a bad man, was taking away Carmelo's girl."

"Did the friend marry Carmelo's girl?"

"Yes, and Carmelo got another girl. Plenty girls very fond of Carmelo.

Look here, the girls always are liking the boy that has been in prison."

"Yes; well, of course, one can understand that. By the by, what was that about the girl who went to confess?"

"Did you know what is confess? All right, I shall tell you. The box is inside for the priest behind the railings, and the other place that is open is for the man or the woman that have sinned. And the girl is coming and is saying:

"'My father, I have sinned. I had the idea to rob my sister of a hen, but I would not do it. What is this?'

"The father was telling, 'It is a very bad idea.'

"And the girl was repeating that she don't be doing the wickedness, only the idea.

"'Never mind,' was telling the father, 'it is the idea that is the thing, and you would be fined with five francs to the church to make the Messa and the church would give the Messa for the sin and the sin would be delivered after the Messa.'

"The girl takes from her pocket the five francs and put to the railings.

The father is telling:

"'It is not possible to touch. Please give me from the door.'

"The girl was answering:

"'Never mind; you have the idea to take the money and it is the idea that is the thing.'

"Did you understand? All right, please take to eat. Some more fish?"

"No, thank you," I replied.

"Please take some more pollo."

"Thank you, Peppino, I have eaten too much already."

"Please take to the drink."

"I have had quite enough, thank you."

"Some more wine? Do not think about Letterio. You shall not be meeting your dolce cuore--your sweetheart, this day. You have not yet taken one gla.s.s."

"Excuse me, I have drunk quite as much as is good for me--much more than a gla.s.s--nearly a bottle."