After the Divorce Part 2

"He met my Giovanna here, and they fell in love with each other; but the uncle made objections because my girl was poor. Then they began to hate one another worse than ever. Costantino was working for the Vulture, and he would never let him have a centime. So, then, one day Costantino came to me and said: 'I'm a poor man; I haven't got any money to buy trinkets for the bride, or to provide a feast and all the rest for a Christian wedding; and you are poor, too. Now then, suppose we do this way: we will have the civil ceremony, and all live and work together; then, when we have saved enough, we will be married by G.o.d. A great many do it that way, why shouldn't we?' So we did; we had the civil ceremony very quietly, and afterwards we all lived together and were happy enough. But the Vulture was furious; he used to come and yell things at us even in our own street, and he tried to interfere with Costantino in every way he could. But we just kept on working. So at last, when the vintage was over last autumn, we began preparing the sweets and things for the wedding, and then Basile Ledda was found dead one day, murdered in his own house! The evening before, Costantino had been seen going in there; what he went for was to tell his uncle about the wedding, and to try to make his peace with him. Ah, poor boy! he would not run off and hide somewhere as I begged and implored him to do, so of course they arrested him."

"He would not go because he was innocent, mamma, my----"

"There you go, you simpleton, beginning to cry again! If you don't stop, I'll not say another word, so there! Well, then, Costantino was arrested, and now the trial is just over, and the public prosecutor has asked to have him sent to the galleys; but he's a dog, that public prosecutor! They have evidence, to be sure; Costantino was seen on the night of the murder entering his uncle's house, where he lived all by himself, like the wild beast that he was; and then their relations in the past--all true enough, but there are no proofs. Costantino was very contradictory, and full of remorse about something; he kept repeating: 'It is the mortal sin'; for you must know that he is a good Christian, and he thinks that this misfortune has been sent as a punishment because he and Giovanna lived together before they were married by religious ceremony."

"But tell me one thing----"

"Just wait a moment. I should add that now they _have_ been married by religious ceremony--in prison! Yes, my dear, in prison; fancy what a horrid thing that was! Now don't begin crying again, Giovanna; if you do, I'll throw this salt-cellar at your head. There she is, the goose!

Every one told her not to do it. 'Don't be married now,' they said. 'If he's found guilty and sentenced, you can marry some one else!'"

"How contemptible!" began the young woman, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes, but the mother merely turned a cold, penetrating look upon her, and she broke off at once.

"Did _I_ say so?" demanded the other. "No, it was other people, and they said it for your own good."

"For my good, for my good," moaned Giovanna, burying her face in her hands; "there is no more good for me, ever again, ever again!"

"Have you children?" asked Paolo.

"Yes, one, a boy. If it were not for him--alas, alas! if Costantino is sentenced, and there were no child--then, oh, misery, misery----!" And she seized her hair by the roots, and began to drag her head violently from side to side, like an insane person.

"You mean that you would kill yourself, my beloved?" asked Aunt Bachissia ironically.

To the student there was something artificial in the action; it reminded him of a famous actress whom he had once seen in a French comedy, and this open display of grief only aroused his cynicism.

"After all," said he, "the new divorce law has been approved, and any woman whose husband is serving a sentence can regain her freedom."

Giovanna did not appear so much as to take in what he said, and continued to rock her head from side to side. Aunt Porredda, however, spoke up in a decided tone: "What an idea! as though any one but G.o.d could undo a marriage!"

"Yes, I read about that in the papers," said Uncle Efes Maria jocularly.

"Those are the divorces they get on the Continent, where men and women marry over and over again without troubling themselves about priests, or magistrates either, for that matter, but here!--shame!"

"No, Daddy Porru, that's not on the Continent, it's in Turkey," said Grazia.

"Here too, here too," said Aunt Bachissia, who had eagerly followed every word.

As soon as supper was over the two Eras went off to see their lawyer.

"What room have you given them?" asked Paolo. "The 'strangers' room'?"

"Why, of course; why?"

"Because I really thought I should like to sleep there myself; it is suffocating down here. What better 'stranger' could there be than I?"

"Be patient just till to-morrow, my boy. Remember these are poor guests."

"O Lord! what barbarous customs! Will there ever be an end to them?" he exclaimed impatiently.

"That's just what I should like to know," said Uncle Efes Maria. "These women are draining my pockets. Well, what do you think of the new Ministry?"

"I don't think anything of it at all!" laughed the student, recalling a character in the _Dame chez Maxim_, a favourite play at the Manzoni Theatre, which he frequented. Then he sauntered off to look at some books he had left on a shelf at the other end of the room. Minnia and the boy had run out into the courtyard; Grazia, seated at the table, with both cheeks resting on her closed fists, was still gazing at her uncle. He turned towards her:

"You read novels, don't you?"

"I? No," she answered, turning red.

"Well, I only wanted to say that if I ever catch you reading certain books--I'll rap you over the head with them."

Her under-lip began to tremble, and, not to let him see her cry, she jumped up and ran out. In the courtyard she found the two children still quarrelling over the purse with the picture of the Pope. "As for stealing," the boy was saying, "you had better keep quiet about that; you, and she there--the bean-pole--you two sold some wine to-day, and kept the money!"

"Oh, what a lie!" cried Grazia, falling upon him and dealing him a blow, but crying herself bitterly all the while.

The courtyard was filled with the chirping of the crickets and the noise of the horses' hoofs; and the warm, starlit air was heavy with the scent of the hay.

"You must not be hard on her, she is a poor orphan," said Aunt Porredda, speaking in Grazia's behalf (they were the three children of an older son of the Porrus', a well-to-do shepherd whose wife had died the year before). "And why not let her read if she wants to?"

"Yes, yes, let her read by all means," said Uncle Efes Maria pompously.

"Ah! if they had only allowed _me_ to read when I was young--I would have been an astronomer, as learned as a priest!" To Uncle Efes Maria an astronomer represented the height of learning and cultivation--a philosopher, as it were.

"Have you seen the Pope, my son?" asked Aunt Porredda, from an a.s.sociation of ideas.

"No."

"What! You have never seen the Pope?"

"Oh! what do you expect? The Pope is kept shut up in a box; if you want to see him, you've got to pay well for it."

"Oh, go along!" said she. "You are an infidel," and, going out to where the children were still fighting, she made a rapid descent upon them, separated the belligerents, and sent each flying in a different direction. "On my word!" she cried, "you are just like so many c.o.c.ks.

The Lord have mercy on me! Here they are, the chicken-c.o.c.ks! Bad children, every one of you, bad, bad children!"

And the lamentations of the youngsters arose and mingled with the noises of the summer evening.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Porredda, female diminutive for Porru.

[2] Piedino,--little foot.

CHAPTER II

The next morning Giovanna was the first to awaken. Through a pane of gla.s.s set in the door came a faint, roseate, sunrise glow; and the early morning silence was broken only by the chattering of the swallows. Not yet fully aroused, her first sensations were agreeable; then, all at once it was as though a terrific clap of thunder had sounded in her ear.

She remembered!

This was the day that was to decide her husband's fate. She knew for a certainty that he would be condemned, and yet she persisted in hoping still. It mattered very little to her whether or no he were guilty; probably she had not at any time troubled herself much with that aspect of the case, and what wholly concerned her now were the consequences.

The thought of being parted, perhaps forever, from this man, young, strong, and active as a greyhound, with his caressing hands and ardent lips, was agony; and as the full consciousness of her misery came over her, she jumped out of bed, and began drawing on her clothes, saying breathlessly: "It is late, late, late."