I Malavoglia

by Giovanni Verga

  When ’Ntoni Malavoglia met don Michele to give him his come-uppance it was a nasty business, and at night, and pouring with rain, and so dark a cat would have stumbled, on the part of the sciara towards the Rotolo, where the boats which pretended to be fishing for cod at midnight tacked stealthily by, and where ’Ntoni went to doze, with Rocco Spatu and Cinghialenta and other down-and-outs, with their pipes in their mouths, so that the guards knew them one by one by those dots of fire from their pipes, while they were hiding among the rocks with their rifles in their hands.

  ‘Comare Mena,’ don Michele began again, as he went down the strada del Nero, ‘tell your brother not to go to the Rotolo at night, with Rocco Spatu and Cinghialenta.’

  But ’Ntoni turned a deaf ear, because ‘a starving stomach knows no reason’ and don Michele didn’t alarm him any more, after they had rolled together sprawling and brawling under the benches in the wine shop; and furthermore he had promised to give him his come-uppance when he met him, and he didn’t want to look a blusterer and braggart in the eyes of Santuzza and all those who had been present at the threat.

  ‘I told him I’d give him his come-uppance wherever I met him; and if I meet him on the Rotolo I’ll be giving it him at the Rotolo!’ he repeated with his friends, and they’d even dragged la Locca’s son along with them. They had spent the evening in the wine shop, drinking and cackling, because a tavern is like a sea port, and Santuzza couldn’t send him away, now that he had money in his pocket and jangled it in his hand. Don Michele had been on his rounds, but Rocco Spatu, who knew the law, said, spitting, that as long as there was a light at the door, they had a right to be there, and he leant up against the wall to feel more at ease. ’Ntoni Malavoglia was relishing making Santuzza yawn as she dozed behind the glasses, with her head resting on those cushions which bore the medal of the Daughter of Mary.

  ‘What she’s lying on is softer than a bundle of fresh grass,’ said ’Ntoni, whom wine made forthcoming; whereas Rocco, tight as a tick, didn’t utter a word, with his shoulders to the wall.

  Meanwhile zio Santoro, groping his way, had removed the light and closed the door.

  ‘Go away now, I’m sleepy,’ said Santuzza.

  ‘Well, I’m not. Massaro Filippo doesn’t bother me of a night.’

  ‘I don’t care whether he bothers you or not; but I don’t want to get a fine on your account, if they find me with the door open at this hour.’

  ‘Who will fine you? that prying don Michele? Get him to come here and I’ll fine him! Tell him that ’Ntoni Malavoglia is here, by Christ!’

  Meanwhile Santuzza had taken him by the shoulders and was pushing him out of the door.

  ‘Go and tell him yourself; and go and look for trouble elsewhere. I don’t want chats with the police on account of your charms.’

  Seeing himself thrown out on the street like that, in the mud, with the rain coming down in torrents, ’Ntoni pulled out a good solid knife, and swore black and blue that he’d stab the pair of them, her and don Michele both! Cinghialenta was the only one in a position to use his wits for all of them, and he was pulling ’Ntoni by the jacket, and saying: ‘Let it drop for now! Don’t you know we’ve work to do?’

  Then la Locca’s son felt a great desire to cry, there in the dark.

  ‘He’s drunk,’ observed Rocco Spatu, standing under the eaves. ‘Bring him here, it’ll do him good.’

  Slightly calmed by the water which was pouring from the eaves, ’Ntoni allowed himself to be led away by compare Cinghialenta, still fuming, while he splashed in the puddles, and swore that if he met don Michele he would give him what he had proposed. And then suddenly indeed he did find himself nose to nose with don Michele, who was buzzing around there as well, with his pistol on his stomach and his trousers tucked into his boots. Then ’Ntoni calmed down suddenly, and all three of them tiptoed towards Pizzuto’s shop.

  On arriving at the door, now that don Michele was safely some way off, ’Ntoni wanted them to stop to hear what he was saying.

  ‘You see where don Michele was going? and Santuzza saying she was sleepy! Now what will they do if massaro Filippo is still in the stable?’

  ‘You leave don Michele be,’ Cinghialenta told him, ‘things being as they are, he’ll let us go about our business.’

  ‘You’re a fine lot’ said ’Ntoni, ‘to be afraid of don Michele.’

  ‘To-night you’re drunk! otherwise I’d show you if I’m afraid of don Michele! Now that I’ve sold my mule I don’t want anyone coming around to see how I earn my daily bread, blood of a dog!’

  Then they began to murmur in low voices up against the wall, while the roar of the rain covered their words. Suddenly the bell struck the hour, and all four of them fell silent to listen.

  ‘Let’s go to Pizzuto’s place,’ said Cinghialenta. ‘He can stay open as late as he likes, and with no light outside.’

  ‘It’s so dark you can’t see to get there,’ said la Locca’s son.

  ‘We need a drink, in this weather,’ replied Rocco Spatu. ‘Otherwise we’ll come a cropper on the sciara.’

  Cinghialenta began to grumble that they weren’t going there for the sheer joy of the outing, and he said he’d get them some lemon water at mastro Vanni’s.

  ‘I don’t need lemon water,’ snapped ’Ntoni, ‘and you’ll see that I can look after my affairs better than you lot!’

  Compare Pizzuto didn’t want to open up at that hour, and told them that he was in bed; but as they carried on knocking, and threatening to wake up the whole village and get the customs guards to come and poke their noses into their affairs, he asked them for the password and came to open up in his underclothes.

  ‘Are you mad, knocking like this at this hour?’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve just seen don Michele go by.’

  ‘Yes, we saw him too; and now he’s telling his beads with Santuzza.’

  ‘Do you know where don Michele has just been?’ Pizzuto asked him looking him straight in the eye; ’Ntoni shrugged; and Vanni, while he stood aside to let them in, winked at Rocco and Cinghialenta.

  ‘He’s been to the Malavoglia’s,’ he whispered in their ear. ‘I saw him come out!’

  ‘Much good may it do him,’ replied Cinghialenta; ‘but we ought to tell ’Ntoni to ask his sister to keep don Michele busy all night, when we’ve got work to do!’

  ‘What’s that you’re going to ask me?’ asked ’Ntoni thickly.

  ‘Nothing, nothing to do with to-night.’

  ‘If it’s nothing to do with to-night, why did you make me leave the wine shop so I could get all soaking wet?’ asked Rocco Spatu.

  ‘It’s something else, something we were talking about with Cinghialenta.’

  And Pizzuto added: ‘Yes, the man from Catania came, and said that the goods would be there this evening, but it will be quite a job unloading it in this weather.’

  ‘All the better; no one will see us.’

  ‘Yes, but the guards have sharp ears; and I thought I saw them hanging around here, and looking into the shop.’

  Then there was a moment of silence, and to get them moving, compare Vanni went to fill up three glasses of absinthe.

  ‘I don’t give a hang about the guards,’ exclaimed Rocco Spatu after he had drunk his down. ‘So much the worse for them if they come sticking their noses into my affairs: I’ve got my jacknife, and it doesn’t make as much racket as their pistols.’

  ‘We earn our bread as best we can, and we don’t want to harm anyone,’ added Cinghialenta. ‘Can’t a person unload his goods where he chooses anymore?’

  ‘They stroll around like thieves, to earn themselves the tax on every pocket handkerchief you want to unload, and no one shoots at them,’ added ’Ntoni Malavoglia. ‘You know what don Giammaria said? He said that robbing thieves is no sin. And the greatest thieves are those braided men, who eat us alive.’

  ‘Let’s make mincemeat of them,’ said Rocco Spatu, his eyes glinting like a cat’s.

  But at such talk la Loc
ca’s son put down his glass, before having even put it to his mouth, yellow as a canary.

  ‘Are you drunk already?’ asked Cinghialenta.

  ‘No,’ he answered, ‘I haven’t been drinking.’

  ‘Let’s go outside, the fresh air will do us all good. And goodnight to the rest.’

  ‘One moment,’ shouted Pizzuto with his hand on the door.

  ‘It’s not the money for the absinthe; I gave it you for nothing, because we’re friends; but one thing I do ask you. My house is here for you to use, if things go well. As you know, I’ve got a back room which could house a shipful of stuff, and no one ever looks into it, because don Michele and his guards and I are thick as thieves. But I don’t trust Piedipapera, because the other time he pulled a fast one and took the stuff to don Silvestro’s house. Don Silvestro would never be satisfied with what you’d give him as his cut, because he’d say that he was risking his job; but you wouldn’t have that worry with me, and you’ll give me a fair deal. And in fact I’ve never refused Piedipapera his cut, and I give him a glass of something every time he comes, and I shave him for nothing. But by Christ! if he double-deals me another time I won’t be made a fool of, and I’ll go and tell don Michele about all these dirty goings on!’

  ‘No, no, compare Vanni; there’s no need to go and tell don Michele. Have you seen Piedipapera this evening?’

  ‘He hasn’t even been out on the square; he was there in the chemist’s shop playing at republicans with the chemist. Every time there’s any action he lies low, to prove he isn’t involved in anything that might be going on. He’s a canny old hand, and he’ll never be bullet fodder for the customs guards, even though he’s as lame as the devil. But he leaves the bullets for the others.’

  ‘It’s still raining,’ said Rocco Spatu. ‘Isn’t it ever going to stop to-night?’

  ‘There won’t be anyone at the Rotolo with this awful weather,’ added la Locca’s son, ‘and we’d do better all to go home.’

  ’Ntoni, Cinghialenta and Rocco Spatu, who were at the doorway, looking out at the rain which was sizzling like fish in a frying pan, were quiet for a moment, gazing out into the darkness.

  ‘What a dolt you are,’ exclaimed Cinghialenta to give him courage; and Vanni Pizzuto slowly shut the door, after saying in a low voice: ‘Listen, will you? If anything were to happen to you, you didn’t see me this evening! I gave you the drink out of friendship, but you didn’t come to my house. I count on you to keep your side of the bargain — I’ve no one in the world, you know.’

  The others went off dejectedly into the rain, hugging the walls.

  ‘Now he’s starting,’ muttered Cinghialenta, ‘speaking ill of Piedipapera, and saying he has no one in the world. At least Piedipapera has a wife. And so have I. But I’m bullet fodder.’

  At that moment they were creeping past Cousin Anna’s door, and Rocco Spatu said he had a mother too, and at that moment she was lucky enough to be fast asleep in bed.

  ‘Anyone who can be between the sheets, in this weather, certainly won’t be wandering the streets,’ said compare Cinghialenta.

  ’Ntoni motioned to them to be quiet, and to turn into the side street, so as to avoid going in front of his house, because Mena or his grandfather might be waiting for them, and would hear them.

  ‘Your sister isn’t waiting for you, I can assure you,’ that drunkard Rocco Spatu said to him. ‘If anything, she’s waiting for don Michele.’

  Then ’Ntoni felt a murderous rage against don Michele, while he felt for the knife in his pocket, and Cinghialenta asked them if they were drunk, to quarrel over trifles like that, while certain matters were under way.

  In fact Mena was waiting for her brother at the door, with her beads in her hand, and Lia too, without saying a word of what she knew, but as pale as a corpse. And it would have been better for everyone if ’Ntoni had gone down the strada del Nero, instead of turning off into the side road. Don Michele had indeed been there just after sunset, and had knocked on the door.

  ‘Who is it at this hour?’ asked Lia, who on the sly was hemming a silk handkerchief which don Michele had at last persuaded her to accept.

  ‘It’s me, don Michele; open up, I’ve something urgent to say.’

  ‘I can’t, because everyone is in bed and my sister is in the next room, waiting for ’Ntoni at the door.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if your sister hears you opening up. It’s ’Ntoni I’ve come to talk about, and it’s urgent. I don’t want your brother to go to prison. But open up, because if they find me here I’ll lose my job.’

  ‘Oh holy Virgin,’ the girl exclaimed. ‘Oh holy Virgin!’

  ‘Shut your brother in the house this evening, when he gets back. But don’t tell him I’ve been by. Tell him it would be better if he stayed at home. Make sure you tell him.’

  ‘Oh holy Virgin,’ the girl repeated, her hands clasped.

  ‘Now he’s at the wine shop, but he’ll have to pass this way. You wait for him at the door, it’ll be the better for him.’

  Lia cried quietly, so that her sister should not hear, and don Michele saw her cry, with his pistol on his stomach and his trousers in his boots.

  ‘There’s no one worrying about me this evening, comare Lia, but I’m in danger too, like your brother. So, if anything happens to me, remember that I came to warn you, and risked losing my position in the process.’

  Then Lia lifted her face from her hands with her eyes full of tears.

  ‘May God reward you for your kindness, don Michele.’

  ‘I don’t want to be rewarded, comare Lia; I did it for you and for the good will I bear you.’

  ‘Go away now, everyone is asleep. Go away, for the love of God, don Michele.’

  Don Michele went, and she stayed behind the door telling her beads for her brother; and she prayed that the Lord would send him in that direction.

  But the Lord did not send him in that direction. All four of them, ’Ntoni, Cinghialenta, Rocco Spatu and la Locca’s son were creeping off hugging the walls of the little lane, and when they got to the sciara they took their shoes off, and listened for a bit, feeling nervous and holding their shoes in their hands.

  ‘I can’t hear anything,’ said Cinghialenta.

  The rain carried on falling, and all you could hear from the sciara was the rumbling of the sea below.

  ‘It’s as dark as the inside of a cow,’ said Rocco Spatu. ‘How will they get to the scoglio dei colombi in this darkness?’

  ‘They’re all used to it,’ replied Cinghialenta. ‘They know every inch of the coast, with their eyes closed.’

  ‘But I can’t hear a thing,’ observed ’Ntoni.

  ‘It’s true, you can’t hear a thing,’ added Cinghialenta. ‘But they must have been down there for some time now.’

  ‘Well then, we’d better go home,’ said la Locca’s son.

  ‘Now you’ve eaten and drunk, all you can think about is going home; and if you don’t shut up, I’ll kick you straight into the sea,’ Cinghialenta told him.

  ‘The fact is,’ grumbled Rocco, ‘that I don’t like the idea of spending the night here, with nothing doing.’

  ‘Now we’ll know if they’re there or not;’ and they began to hoot like owls.

  ‘If don Michele’s guards hear us,’ added ’Ntoni, ‘they’ll come running straight away, because owls aren’t abroad on nights like this.’

  ‘Then we’d better leave,’ whimpered la Locca’s son, ‘because nobody’s answering.’

  All four looked at each other, even though it was black as pitch, and considered what padron ’Ntoni’s ’Ntoni had said.

  ‘What shall we do?’ la Locca’s son asked yet again.

  ‘Let’s get down on the road,’ suggested Cinghialenta; ‘if there’s no one there, it means they haven’t come.’

  While they were going down on to the road, ’Ntoni said that Piedipapera was quite capable of selling them all for a glass of wine.

  ‘Now that you haven’t got a
glass in front of you,’

  Cinghialenta said to him, ‘You’re afraid too.’

  ‘Come now, blood of the devil! I’ll show you if I’m afraid!’

  As they picked their way gingerly among the rocks, moving cautiously so as not to break their necks, Spatu observed quietly: ‘Vanni Pizzuto got so angry about Piedipapera getting a cut without doing anything, but even he is in his bed right now.’

  ‘Well,’ concluded Cinghialenta, ‘If you don’t want to risk your skin, you ought to have stayed at home and slept.’

  No one said another word, and ’Ntoni, putting his hands in front of him to see where he was putting his feet, reflected that compare Cinghialenta needn’t have said that, because in such predicaments everyone sees their own homes before their eyes, with their beds and Mena cat-napping behind the door.

  At last that drunkard Rocco Spatu said: ‘Our skins aren’t worth a penny.’

  Suddenly, from behind the street wall, they heard a shout of ‘Who goes there? Halt. Everybody halt.’

  ‘We’ve been betrayed,’ they began to shout, and ran off over the sciara, without caring where they put their feet.

  But ’Ntoni, who had already scaled the wall, found himself nose to nose with don Michele, who had his pistol in his hand.

  ‘By the blood of the Virgin,’ shouted Malavoglia pulling out his knife; ‘I’ll show you if I’m afraid of a pistol!’

  Don Michele’s pistol went off, but he slumped like a felled ox, stabbed in the chest. Then ’Ntoni tried to run away, leaping higher than a goat, but the guards were on to him, while gunshots rained down like hail, and they threw him to the ground.

  ‘Now what will my mother do?’ wailed la Locca’s son, while they were trussing him up tighter than a pig for market.

  ‘Don’t tie me so tight, blood of the Virgin,’ shrieked ’Ntoni; ‘you can see that I can’t move!’

  ‘Come on, Malavoglia,’ they answered him. ‘Your goose is well and truly cooked,’ and they pushed him forwards with the muzzles of their rifles.

  While they were taking him to the barracks, trussed up tighter than a pig for market, with don Michele behind him on the guards’ shoulders, he was peering round to see where Cinghialenta and Rocco Spatu were.