Gogol's Wife

by Tommaso Landolfi

  Being careful not to make any noise and not to turn on any lights on the side facing the courtyard, the three women gathered at the window from which Nena had watched the monkey disappear. The first thought which spontaneously came to all three of them was not to arouse the animal’s suspicions even now, so that they could watch his return. They must find out more about Tombo’s behavior; if he did not know he’d been discovered, he might furnish precise clues concerning his nocturnal activities. There is no need to add, of course, that for the old maids his little jaunt was not yet sufficient proof of criminal proceedings in the chapel. At least not for Lilla and Apollonia, or “Bellonia” as they called the maid. Nena was so deeply distraught that she could barely think, much less draw any sort of conclusion. To her, the monkey’s misconduct in itself appeared overwhelming, whereas the others seemed prepared to regard it rather indulgently, so long as it had no consequences. Nena felt betrayed, abused, and was now forlornly pacing up and down the room, and all that she could say was: “He shouldn’t have done this to me!”

  Meanwhile Lilla and Bellonia, half undressed, just as they’d jumped out of bed, were keeping an eye on the garden and courtyard, exchanging comments in a whisper; a dim gleam, not enough to make out anything in the room distinctly, came from the window. After a while, Nena’s behavior began to worry them. The maid nudged her mistress with her elbow and Lilla went to her sister. For a time she tagged after her in her agitated pacing, without knowing what to say. She would have liked to console her, though she wasn’t quite sure what she should console her for, since she did not understand her sorrow. In the end she started to say that perhaps Tombo hadn’t gone to the chapel at all, perhaps he only wanted to go out for a while.

  “But what has this got to do with it?” Nena retorted sternly, without halting.

  Lilla, intimidated, gave vent to a series of mumbles, grunts, and vague little phrases such as “I mean . . . am I right . . . do you realize” and so on, whose general meaning was that after all there was no point in taking it so hard, because animals are only animals.

  Nena stopped pacing abruptly and repeated to herself: “Animals!” as if she had just at that moment realized that Tombo was an animal.

  More than an hour went by. Finally Bellonia announced in a rapid whisper that the monkey was on his way back. Emerging from the shadow of one of the eucalyptus trees, though at a spot some distance from the chapel, Tombo came hopping, without undue haste, toward the dividing fence. The women dashed away from the window and stationed themselves to watch from the hallway. And from there they witnessed an inverse repetition of the scene described above. He re-entered by the same route, and after dawdling about on the furniture for a while, shut himself in the cage, pulled the door to behind him, and made sure that the latch was back in place, maneuvering it this time from the side. Then, by dint of pitiful and laborious contortions, he managed to slip on the halter again; and there he sat, looking dazed. This particular behavior of his—the fact that he tidied up everything so neatly—seemed definitive proof that these jaunts were habitual, and that he had no intention of giving them up.

  From his mood of stupefaction Tombo soon passed to a curious agitation. He capered about wildly, and every so often ran with prodigious speed three or four times around the cage, up and down and from right to left, following an approximately circular orbit—more like a crazed rabbit than a monkey. Yet as soon as Bellonia entered the kitchen for her chores (dawn had come and the good maid could no longer think of going back to bed), he threw himself with a crash on his pallet and pretended to be sleeping. For the time being nobody said a word to him, obeying Nena’s orders, who confusedly announced that she wanted to spy on him some more, and so he must not know that he’d been discovered.

  Now the old maids retired to get some rest. They had barely closed their eyes when news of a new sacrilege at the chapel arrived. This time, so as not to offend the pious ladies, the nun sent from the convent had simply given the message to the porter who, knowing that the old maids were early risers, had come upstairs right away.

  With the result, on top of everything else, that the story began to spread and the whole house, soon the whole quarter, was informed of the ignominious suspicion, now a certainty, which weighed on Tombo. The nuns of the convent did not cut the most flattering figure in this affair. Some people claimed that they had heard violent nocturnal uproars in the convent—presumably because the sisters had at first mistaken Tombo for a devil with a tail who’d come up from hell to punish them for their sins. But then, we all know how vivid the popular imagination is.

  5

  On the day which followed that agitated night Nena had almost regained control of herself, or at least so it seemed. She repeated her version of what she had seen to her sister and the maid, and together they discussed the problem at length. But as Lilla and Bellonia became more and more convinced of Tombo’s responsibility in the desecration of the hosts and, seeing her calmer, forthrightly affirmed it, Nena denied it more and more openly. That the monkey might be the sort to skip out secretly and go to cavort in the eucalyptus trees, she could not, she said, deny; yet quite a distance separated one thing from the other. “Why, of course not!” she concluded each time, as she walked up and down the room, trailing the strings of her bloomers, since that day they hadn’t even given a thought to getting properly dressed. “Why, of course not,” she repeated, “He’s incapable of doing such a thing!”

  Nena—to deal with this point once and for all—had one of those temperaments which unconsciously fear themselves, and must at all costs acquire absolute certainty, since they know that matters left in doubt will give rise in them to intimate or open reactions of an irreparable kind. Nor do they prefer to avoid these reactions by keeping themselves in a state of relative ignorance; on the contrary they look for and hope for decisive proof, all the more if it may turn out to be painful to them. Cruel temperaments—or at least close to the point of cruelty. But this is facile psychology, and I do not guarantee the accuracy of the interpretation. Who can say what Nena really and truly thought and felt in this situation? I don’t presume to explain anything, and so I return to my story.

  “Of course not, of course not,” she went on, shaking her head. While her sister was already trying to plan how they could restrain the monkey in the future. “Do you realize, eh, I mean an animal who opens doors, takes off his collar. Am I right? What shall we do?” And then a flood of mumbles and grunts poured out, endlessly. But suddenly it looked as if Nena had thought of something and, without delay, she began to get dressed very correctly, while the other two trailed around after her, asking for an explanation. She curtly declared that she was going to visit the convent next door. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “I won’t believe it until I’ve seen it with my own eyes!”

  She was going to ask the Mother Superior for something which the other women regarded as unheard-of, contrary to all custom, the idea of someone completely unhinged: that is, permission to watch that night in the chapel and, if so it must be, catch the beast red-handed. The other women tried in every way to dissuade her, but she just went straight ahead. Putting on her bird-adorned hat, she said:

  “Go and see if he needs anything. Don’t ask me to go, I don’t want to see him. And if it turns out to be true,” she added, as she left, “then we’ll think about what we have to do. Right now, there’s no point in discussing it any more.”

  It is not known how Nena managed things with the Mother Superior. The latter certainly must have been astounded, seeing that respectable and devout little old lady so concerned about her monkey’s morality, when all she had to do was just chain him a bit more securely. Or, more likely the touchy nun was insulted because the community had not been taken at its word, although, in truth, the only positive thing her flock had glimpsed was a shadow. But this was a delicate business: to offend two rather munificent benefactors wasn’t to her best interest, so the Mother Superior ended by lending herself to this folly, in all
likelihood after having consulted with her spiritual director and God knows how many other people. The fact remains that Nena came home after an hour, fairly exhausted and with her nose more sweaty than ever, but having obtained what she wanted. Then she kept silent for the remainder of the day, slept for a while, and that very evening prepared for her new vigil.

  They had agreed that one of the two who stayed at home would spy on the monkey as before, since Nena, stationed inside the chapel, could not watch all his movements. That night neither of the two lookouts noted anything suspicious: the monkey slept more or less quietly. After having returned home and received the report of her aide, Nena assumed a strange expression of triumph mixed with disappointment, which soon resolved into a reassured tenderness. After the second night this expression, and the mood which followed it, became more intense, for although Tombo had left the cage and the house he had not appeared in the chapel. This was already a long stride on the path to his partial rehabilitation. “Didn’t I say so!” Nena murmured. On the third night . . .

  Nena was almost never alone during her vigils in the chapel; since the convent, among other things, helped care for the sick, one or another of the Sisters on duty kept her company and most likely kept an eye on her, no doubt by order of the Mother Superior. On this third night, her companion was a young and timid nun with a provincial accent, who had perhaps barely donned the habit and became flustered and blushed if one merely looked at her. The two women had taken up the same posts as on the previous nights, that is, in a small sacristy between the chapel and the main building, and whose door they had left slightly ajar. In their field of vision they had, to their right, the outer door of the chapel, which opened on the garden with the two eucalyptus trees and was locked, of course, from the inside; to their left, but actually, right opposite them, the altar, which they saw from the side, more or less as one sees a stage-set from the wings. Since the small lamp which the nuns always kept lit on this altar did not suffice to light up the scene adequately and irrefutably (it was one of those lamps with a floating wick, nearly covered by the oil, which could not dispel the darkness), the old maid had gotten permission to burn, at her own expense, two thick candles at each side of the tabernacle. So the illumination was, one might say, quite festive, considering the smallness of the chapel.

  The door of that sacred place was surmounted by a fanlight shaped like a peacock’s tail; it had no glass, but rather closely set bars, though not perhaps close enough to stop a monkey from entering. That was the only opening through which the animal could possibly have gained admission, since from that fanlight, if one excepted the door, the chapel received its only light; and in fact, the nuns claimed that they had seen the monkey escape through it several times. So the two women were crouching there quietly in the dark, keeping their eyes fixed on that particular spot. They had both settled down, the guest—one does not know how welcome—on a big, stuffed chair, probably the appurtenance of the bishop or father confessor, the nun on a bench. They were muttering their prayers, interspersed by a few attempts on Nena’s part at a muted conversation. But from such a little nun it was impossible to ply more than two words in a row. She smiled and smiled—or at least it could be imagined that she did—and all that she finally said, stammering, was that in her opinion the monkey would surely come tonight, because “never more than three nights went by” (that is, he did not fail to appear at least every three nights).

  And, sure enough, just at the crack of dawn, when a natural somnolence already weighed on their lids, a vague shadow appeared at the fanlight—a shadow which seemed for an instant enormous, then abruptly diminished in volume and assumed its proper shape.

  Tombo first introduced between the iron bars the very long arm with which we are already familiar and waved it a bit, almost as though he were testing the air. Then he pushed through, shoulders first, and, from the architrave, measured the distance which separated him from the basin of an empty holy water stoup which rose to the right of the door; then he flung himself onto its brim with a very precise leap through the air. But since we are more or less familiar with his behavior under such circumstances, we shall not follow him step by step in his further evolutions, nor dwell upon his every little gesture and pose. That is, until the moment when, having crossed, swiftly and spiderlike, the entire length of the chapel, we find him clambering up the altar. Now Nena saw him right before her, just a few steps away, in the glaring light cast by the two large candles. Both she and the nun were petrified and held their breath. And then the horror began.

  Tombo decisively approached the ciborium and opened it brusquely, slamming back the small door. He stood for a moment, peering inside with his head cocked, like a chicken, then thrust in the usual arm and twice pulled out a handful of consecrated hosts, which he rapidly devoured. At this point the little nun, unable to bear the sight of this sacrilege, made a sharp movement and convulsively squeezed Nena’s arm. Sensing that her companion was preparing to intervene, also because she most likely felt that the vigil’s purpose had by now been achieved, Nena nailed her to the spot with unsuspected energy, almost with violence, at the same time clapping a hand over her mouth. And the little nun submitted, either out of fear or temptation.

  Tombo, having devoured the consecrated hosts, turned around once or twice in a grotesque fashion at the edge of the altar, as if he expected an audience’s applause to follow his performance. Then he approached the ciborium again and this time took from it only one consecrated host, which he dropped on the altar; then he pulled out the sacred chalice, holding it horizontally by its stem, and this he also dropped, without even bothering to look at it; next, with his right hand, he extracted the sacred corporal, which, however, he held onto. Moving now toward the cornice of the altar, he grasped with his left hand the ampulla of holy wine, which he clutched to his chest. Back at the center, he halted with an obtuse stare, holding these last two objects in his hands, as if he did not know what to do with them, or rather, since his hands were full, did not know how to proceed. Finally he violently shook out the sacred corporal, and having in this way managed to unfurl it, flung it with a whipping sound to his feet. Then he picked it up, at the same time placing the ampulla between his legs, but an instant later he again seized the ampulla and released the corporal—ending up by holding them both, as at the start of the maneuver. But, due to his jerky gestures, a part of the holy cloth had become wrapped around his forearm, and now Tombo realized that he could use his right hand without dropping the holy cloth. So he again seized the sacred chalice and, having shaken the ampulla to throw out the stopper, he prepared to fill it with the sacred wine. To accomplish this, he proceeded in a bizarre manner: without moving the flask away from his chest, he pulled the sacred chalice itself close to himself and the mouth of the flask; then, bending his whole body forward and contorting himself, he managed to pass a few drops of the sacred liquid from one receptacle to the other. That having been done, he squatted down and delicately set the sacred vessel between his feet. After this he got to his feet with an abrupt movement, brandished the ampulla with a sort of libidinous frenzy and licked its orifice; an instant later he had pushed the end of the flask into his mouth and was drinking the rest of the sacred wine, down to the last drop.

  There was not much wine, and yet the effect was almost immediate. Without actually intoxicating him, it was enough to confer on the animal a great verve and boldness and on his gestures something even more brusque and farcical. Now the ampulla was discarded; having dropped it, Tombo thrust it away angrily with both hands. Once again he squatted down and took up the chalice, which he placed right at the center of the altar. He also picked up the host and laid it on top of the chalice, like a cover. Finally he snatched the corporal, which still dangled from his arm, not to cover the first two objects but to throw it slapdash over his shoulders. Thus vested, he circled around these objects with a dancelike step, jumping up and down with his feet together, several times, hectically, loudly slapping the altar’s s
lab. Then he got around to the sacred chalice, which he seized, keeping his back to the pews, that is, looking toward the ciborium; he lifted it; put it down again; made a half turn, opened his arms, though holding his elbows close to his sides and with his palms open; turned again toward the chalice, lifting it again . . . For a moment the two women did not understand, they refused to understand. . . . Reader, do not condemn me: Tombo was saying Mass.

  By now he was beastically devouring the consecrated host and drinking the sacred wine. And at this point I am gripped by another hesitation. I don’t know whether I have the right to tell all and to disturb good souls to such an extent; but in the end I am compelled to report the final abomination of that abominable night. Seized by a sudden necessity, Tombo dropped the sacred chalice and let it roll on the altar’s slab; and then, against a corner of the tabernacle . . . and I must find some way of saying it . . . he micturated on the altar.

  The long restrained scream of the nun rang out. She flung herself on her knees and amidst convulsive sobs first cried and then barely murmured: “Oh God, forgive us!” As for the old maid, she did not utter a word. She rose to her feet in a daze and walked into the church.

  Hearing that fracas, Tombo had hastened to throw everything back into the ciborium, whose door he slammed shut again. He undoubtedly recognized his mistress, and, running like a streak across the chapel, showing all the signs of insane terror, he left by the way he had come.