Sparrow (and other stories)

by Giovanni Verga

  What a magnificent sight when we reached the top of the mountain! The chestnut grove doesn’t extend all the way up, and from the summit you get an unimpeded view of the horizon. The sun was setting on one side, and the moon rising on the other, two different kinds of twilight at either extremity, with the snows of Etna seemingly ablaze, and a few gossamer cloudlets floating through the blueness of the firmament like snowflakes, with the smell of all that flourishing mountain vegetation, amid a solemn silence; you could see the sea in the distance, turning silver in the first glimmer of moonlight, and Catania, like a pale patch upon the shore, and the vast plain behind bound by chains of azure mountains, with the bright, winding course of the Simeto snaking across it. And then gradually, rising towards us, were all those gardens and vineyards, those villages sending us the distant sound of the angelus, and Etna’s proud peak reaching towards the sky, its valleys already quite black, its snows gleaming in the last rays of sunshine, its woods rustling and murmuring and quivering. Marianna, there are times when I feel like weeping, and clasping hands with everyone around me, when I’d be incapable of uttering a single word, and my mind is crowded with thoughts … Honestly, I don’t know how I didn’t clasp hands with Signor Nino, who was standing next to me! What a crazy fool I am!

  I think everyone must have felt what I was feeling, because no one spoke. Even Signor Nino, who’s always cheerful, as you know, also remained silent …

  Then we went running down the hill again, shouting and laughing, frightening the birds (who then did the same to us, by taking flight with a sudden flurry among the leaves), and playing hide-and-seek among the trees, even though our parents shouted themselves hoarse, telling us not to run. Ali and Vigilante joined in the fun, jumping and barking with joy. Here and there, amid those dark shadows, a moonbeam filtered through the branches, shedding its silvery light on the treetrunks, and casting weird shadows on the dead leaves that carpeted the ground. Signor Nino, too, no more nor less than the rest of us, ran like a child, like a madman. Two or three times, I overtook him, which left me feeling very proud. Can you imagine, beating a man! And since it was dark among the trees and he couldn’t see me blush, I didn’t feel embarrassed. And when I’d left all the others behind … including him … I stood there, panting, unable to catch my breath, but totally elated, and I wasn’t scared of being alone in the dark, because I could hear their voices and the sound of the dogs barking … and, after all, Signor Nino had that splendid shot-gun slung across his shoulder.

  And what a pleasure it was, too, as we came out of the woods, to be greeted by the lights of our cottage. Do you have any idea what a gladdening sight it is, in the silence and the darkness of the countryside, to see in the distance those illuminated windows, that welcoming light, which guides you, leads you, and makes you think of home, and of all the quiet joys of family life?

  You can’t imagine how friendly we’ve become with the Valentini over the past week. They’re such nice people! It’s as though we’ve been friends for decades. Annetta is a kind-hearted girl and doesn’t laugh at my tunic and my strange convent ways. We’re in one another’s company from morning till night, going for walks, chatting, playing cards, having lunch together, and sometimes dinner as well. Would you believe that I’ve learned to play cards, too? For heaven’s sake, don’t tell anyone! Though I’m not very good yet, and I nearly always lose, Signor Nino is always ready to help me, to offer his advice and guidance, and he doesn’t mind not playing himself. When I go back to the convent, I promise you, I’ll forget all about card games.

  My God, the convent! That’s the only cloud darkening these bright horizons. But let’s not think about that right now, Marianna, let’s be cheerful and happy, and let God’s will be done!

  And while we’re here, enjoying ourselves, safe and untroubled, and out of harm’s way, think of all those poor people grieving and suffering! all that misery! all those tears! all those victims! The news that reaches us here, every four or five days, is very sad. May God have mercy on the many who are afflicted!

  There are such fears and apprehensions! The peasants here believe in poisoners, in poisonous rays, and heaven knows what else … Poor wretches! They’re like me, when I’m afraid, I see ghosts! That’s why every night, in the valleys, on the mountains, all around, you see flares and torches, and you hear the continual sound of gunfire, as though they were trying to scare off cunning wolves, or human savages! It’s sad, but at night, in the darkness and the silence, amid this general tumult, it’s also terrifying.

  Now I’m sad too, aren’t I? And only a moment ago I was happy, telling you how we’ve been enjoying ourselves. You say that you’re having fun too, and that you’re in good company. I believe you, but I bet it’s not as good as ours. You also say that you won’t be returning to the convent – lucky you! But that means I’ll have to go back without you! Right now, I want to be happy. God will take care of the future! Carino is better – he’s grown much bigger, and even a little naughty. He’s lively, chirpy and bright, and he has such a loud voice! If I let him, I think he’d be fearless enough to stand up to the cat. Poor Vigilante was given such a nasty beating by the steward that he came yelping to tell me his troubles. I petted him, and I’ve always some tasty titbit to give him, and now he remains at the door of my room.

  I don’t think there’s anything I’ve forgotten to tell you. Write me a long letter soon. Tell me that you love me, and send your love as well to my friend Annetta, who sends you hers.

  Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

  1 October

  If you knew, Marianna, if you only knew … The terrible sin I’ve committed … My God! How am I going to summon up the courage to tell you? Don’t tell me off! I’ll confess to no one else but you – but only in a whisper, mind, and all in a fluster … Don’t look me in the face! Hold me tight and listen.

  I’ve been dancing! Can you imagine? I’ve been dancing! But listen … don’t shout at me! There was no one watching – only papa, Giuditta, Gigi, mama, Annetta, the Valentini … and Signor Nino … In fact, he was the one I danced with … Listen, I’ll explain … you’ll see that it wasn’t my fault … I wasn’t to blame … they forced me …

  Yesterday evening the Valentini brought their harmonium. Annetta played, and then Giuditta. Everyone was dancing – Annetta, Giuditta, and even Gigi a little. My sister’s bed had to be dismantled to make room for a dance floor. After Giuditta had finished dancing, Signor Nino came and invited me. I felt my face burning, and I wished I were a hundred feet below the ground. I stammered, not knowing what to say. I refused, repeatedly, I swear to you. Everyone was laughing and clapping. Papa came and took me by the hand. He gave me a hug and said there was no great harm in my dancing as well, and he too was laughing. It was no use my trying to explain I didn’t even know how to dance, I hadn’t been taught that either at the convent. Signor Nino volunteered to teach me. I couldn’t see clearly any more, I felt dizzy, my ears were ringing, and my legs were trembling. I let myself be led, I let myself be dragged along, without the least idea of what they were doing with me. It was excruciating, Marianna … Yet, when he took me by the hand.. when he put his arm around my waist … it seemed to me that his hand was hot, that every vein of my blood was on fire, and that an icy chill was flooding into my heart! But at the same time I felt comforted. My heart was pounding, feeling that other heart beating against it. Everyone must have been laughing at me. You’re laughing, too. Even I can laugh at myself now. How many young women of our age have not danced a dozen times at least? I wonder whether at first they went through the same experience as I did? But afterwards I confess that the music, those happy faces, the words of encouragement he whispered in my ear, his hand that held mine almost dispelled my confusion, even shame … Poor Marianna, don’t be cross with me. I very nearly felt happy …

  My dear Marianna, forgive me! I shan’t do it again. Anyway, I hope they leave me alone now. They’ve made enough fun of my tunic and my awkwardness … including him … Sig
nor Nino … But no! I’m sure he didn’t want to make me dance just to laugh at me … He meant to please me … and in fact he was being too kind to me, to a poor postulant who didn’t know how to move, who stumbled at every step, and was overcome with dizziness … and he dances so well! If you’d seen him dancing with Giuditta – she certainly knows how to dance!

  Afterwards we played a little music. Annetta and Giuditta sang a few theatrical songs. Then they absolutely insisted that I sang as well … Tell me, what on earth could I have sung, apart from Salve Regina? Well, they said they’d even settle for Salve Regina. They were surely trying to tease me by making me sing, and my papa most of all! In the choir, as you well know, we sing almost in darkness, behind screens, with a veil over our face, among those that we know very well. But to sing in public, in front of so many people! Signor Nino was there, too! Yet I was obliged to sing – not the words, mind, only the tune. My voice was quavering, and I could hardly breathe, but they were very kind and didn’t laugh, in fact they applauded. Apparently they thought the music of Salva Regina was really beautiful. I could see that Signor Nino was very touched by it. And the way he was looking at me, when he’s usually so cheerful and light-hearted.

  I’ve told you everything that I’ve been doing, and thinking, and all the fun I’ve been having, and all the terrible sins I’ve committed, even at the risk of being lectured by you. I wouldn’t have dared to confess them to our saintly old chaplain … but if I didn’t tell you everything, my dearest sister, if I didn’t open my heart to you, and confide in you, I think all these things would oppress me. I need to have a long chat with you about them, to recall all the details, to ponder over them, and to talk to myself about them, to see them written down on paper, to dream about them … There are moments when all these thoughts are seething in my mind, making me feel dizzy, befuddled and dazed.

  I’m mad. These new sensations must be too violent for me, after the peace and quiet of the convent that I’m used to. I’m glad to be able to talk about them to you at least, and to share with you what I cannot contain in my own heart.

  Write to me, write soon. Don’t take too long to reply. Comfort me, talk to your poor friend who’s troubled and perturbed by all this disturbance and novelty, and all these new impressions, and who trembles like a little bird, frightened even by curious onlookers who certainly have no intention of hurting it, but do so just by gathering round to watch.

  I want to cry, and laugh, and sing, I want to be happy. I need a letter from you. I need to talk to you, do you understand? Hug me, Marianna … If only I could weep and bury my face in your shoulder!

  10 October

  Thursday was a lovely day! It was papa’s name-day! I don’t need to tell you that everyone in our little family was up at dawn, and our little house was filled with joy and happiness. Mama had already had a turkey’s neck wrung, and was supervising preparations for the meal. Giuditta gave my father a beautiful silk cap, which she’d embroidered in secret as a surprise. I could only give a bunch of wild flowers I picked at daybreak and that were still wet with dew. It was a very humble little posy, but my dear kind papa was just as pleased with my present as he was with my sister’s, and he hugged us both with tears in his eyes. Our friends arrived as soon as it was light, preceded by cheerful cries, shots fired into the air, and Ali’s barking. What festiveness! The Valentini, too, brought flowers, but real garden flowers that they had ordered specially from Viagrande. My poor little bunch looked very modest beside those splendid blooms. They also gave us a fine hare killed the day before. Signor Valentini never goes hunting, but his son does … Mama appreciated the hare more than the flowers. And I confess that in the past few days I’ve become almost reconciled with hunters … It must be a matter of getting used to them … And what can we women possibly understand of pastimes like these that men take such pleasure in? Papa invited our friends to eat with us. It was a wonderful day! Everyone was very good-humoured, and they all sang, and laughed, and even danced – I didn’t, mind you.

  After the meal, we went for our usual walk. It was a beautiful evening. But I don’t know why, I wasn’t as bright and cheerful as everyone else, and as I’d been before. I liked hearing the quiet rustle of falling leaves, the sighing of the trees, the distant call of a barn owl, I liked feeling scared in the darkest shadows and being on my own, away from the others, and tears gradually misted my eyes.

  What is the mystery inside us, Marianna? I should have been so happy that day, when everyone else was. I can’t explain this strangeness even to myself. It’s probably my funny little brain that’s more suited to the quietness of the convent, and feeling out of place here is unsettled and disturbed, and even a little crazy.

  Goodbye for now. I’ll write again soon. This is a short, even skimpy, letter, although I ought to be sending a nice long one telling you lots more – all the foolish things that pass through my mind, all the things that I can’t chat to you about face to face. But what can I say? I haven’t the heart for it today. I feel tired and listless, and my thoughts are confused. Till tomorrow then.

  23 October

  You must be cross with me for not having replied to your letter, and you’re right to be, Marianna, but I’m already cross with myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just don’t know … The smallest task, the least activity makes me tired … Go ahead and scold me … I’m a real lazy-bones. I wish I could spend all day long sitting in the shade of the chestnut trees, and all night staring up at the sky. Everything that had most charm now bores me. I no longer have any desire to go for walks in the chestnut grove, or to sing, I can’t laugh any more – everything irritates me. Your poor friend Maria is feeling very sad! Even I don’t know why. Perhaps the Good Lord wanted to show me how transient are the joys and pleasures that don’t belong to life inside the convent. Oh God, there are moments when I’m almost afraid of myself … because even my prayers are distracted … God, forgive me, and comfort me! God, sustain me!

  Carino has almost ceased to be tame, because for many days now I haven’t been playing with him any more. He flies away from me! Have I really become so disagreeable? Vigilante doesn’t show me the same affection that he used to, because I don’t pay attention to him, and he realizes that he’s being a nuisance.

  Do you think I could be ill, Marianna? Between you and me, I almost wish I were ill, because then there’d be a reason for all this boredom and tiredness, and they wouldn’t frighten me.

  But you’re well, and happy, and light-hearted – you must write to me, write often. Love me a hundred times better, because I’m in more need of your love and you’re much dearer to me now, and the only sweet feeling left to me is a great fondness for my loved ones, for everyone I know, and as you can imagine, for you too!

  2 November

  I’m convinced, Marianna, that all this worldly tumult, all these powerful sensations, and these pleasures are extremely bad for us poor, weak, faint-hearted souls. We’re humble little flowers accustomed to the gentle protection of the hothouse, and destroyed by fresh air.

  Do you remember when I wrote to you two months ago and told you how bright and cheerful I felt? How avid for joy my heart was, and how it treasured every new emotion? How I thanked the good Lord and praised him for all these wonderful sensations that my heart was opening up to? It’s true, Marianna! Alas, it’s true what the nuns kept telling us, and what Father Anselmo said repeatedly from the pulpit: that the real, lasting joys are the calm, serene joys of the convent. I can’t explain why, but the joys of the world are not always the same. I know from experience … I feel so differently now! Everything makes me feel tired, oppresses me, and bothers me … I find everything a cause of unease, and anxiety … and even dismay. I’m scared by the very fact that I can’t account for the sudden fits of insane, almost delirious joy and for the unpredictable sadnesses that overwhelm me. I feel unhappy among all these gifts from the Creator for which I once used to glorify Him …

  I wish I could return within t
hose blessed convent walls. I wish I could kneel in the chancel and cling to the feet of Jesus on that Cross. I wish I could kiss you, and bury my face on your shoulder, and shed the tears gathered in my heart.

  Don’t laugh at me, Marianna, pity me instead. Pity me, because I feel so sad, and I can’t understand my sadness, I don’t know the reason for it – maybe I’m wicked and ungrateful to the good Lord who has showered so many blessings on me; ungrateful to my dear papa who tries to dispel my sadness with countless endearments; ungrateful to my family and friends …

  I can’t write any more. I feel like crying. I’ve spent nearly all night long at the window, staring into the intense darkness, which seemed to me full of ghosts, and listening to the distant sound of the dogs whining, and the drone of nocturnal insects … and I wasn’t afraid!