Under the Shadow of Etna Part 13

And the pa.s.sers-by pulled the a.s.s's tail, and they bit its ears, so as to make it get up.

"Don't you see it's dying?" at last remarked a carter, and so at least the others let it alone, because the a.s.s had the eye of a dead fish, a cold nose, and a shudder ran over its skin.

The woman, meantime, thought of her son, who was delirious with fever, and a flushed face, and cried,--

"Now what shall we do,--what shall we do?"

"If you will sell it, and all the wood on its back for five _tar_, I'll give that much," said the carter who had an empty cart; and as the woman looked at it with squinting eyes, he added, "I'll only take the wood, for the a.s.s isn't worth that--"

And he gave a kick to the carca.s.s, which sounded like a burst drum.

THE BEREAVED.

The little girl appeared at the door, twisting the corner of her ap.r.o.n in her fingers, and said,--

"Here I am!"

Then, when no one paid any attention to her, she looked shyly first at one and then at another of the women who were kneading dough, and spoke again,--

"They told me,--'Go to _comare_ Sidora.'"

"Come here, come here," cried _comare_ Sidora, red as a tomato, as she stood in the back part of the bake-shop. "Wait a moment, and I'll make you a nice cake."

"It means they are bringing _comare_ Nunzia the Viatic.u.m; they've sent the little girl away," observed the woman from Lacodia.

One of the women engaged in kneading the dough, turned her head, with her hands still at work in the trough, her arms bare to the elbow, and asked the little girl,--

"How is your step-mother?"

The child, not knowing the woman, looked at her with frightened eyes, and hanging her head, and nervously working at the ends of her ap.r.o.n, said, in a low voice, between her set teeth,--

"She's in bed."

"Don't you see 'tis the Sacrament," replied la Licodiana. "Now the neighbors have begun to scream at the door."

"As soon as I finish kneading this dough," said _comare_ Sidora, "I'll run over a moment to see if they have need of anything. _Compare_ Meno loses his right hand when this second wife of his dies."

"Some men have no luck with their wives, just as some are unfortunate with their mules. No sooner do they get 'em than they lose 'em.

There's _comare_ Angela."

"Yesterday evening," observed la Licodiana, "I saw _compare_ Meno at his door; he had come back from the vineyard before the Ave Marie, and was blowing his nose on his handkerchief."

"But," suggested the woman who was kneading the dough, "he is a master hand at killing off his wives. In less than three years already two of _curatolo_[18] Nino's daughters have been eaten up, one after the other! Wait a little and you'll see the third go the same way, and all _curatolo_ Nino's things wasted."

[18] The manager of a farm, not a tenant.

"Is this little girl _comare_ Nunzia's daughter, or his first wife's?"

"She's his first wife's daughter. But this one has been just as kind to her as though she had been her own mamma, because the little orphan was her niece, you know."

The child, hearing them speaking of herself, began to weep silently in a corner, thus relieving her bursting heart, which she had till then kept under control, by playing with her ap.r.o.n.

"Come here, come here," pursued _comare_ Sidora. "The nice cake's all ready. There, there! Don't cry; for your mamma's in Paradise."

The little girl then dried her eyes with her doubled fists, because she saw that _comare_ Sidora was preparing to open the oven.

"Poor _comare_ Nunzia!" said a neighbor, appearing at the door. "The gravediggers are on their way. They just pa.s.sed by here."

"Heaven protect me! as I am under Mary's grace!"[19] exclaimed the women, crossing themselves.

[19] "_Lontano sia! che son figlia di Maria!_"

_Comare_ Sidora took the cake out of the oven, brushed off the ashes, and handed it, smoking hot, to the little girl, who took it in her ap.r.o.n and walked away slowly, slowly, blowing on it as she went.

"Where are you going?" cried _comare_ Sidora. "Stay here! There's a black-faced _ba-bau_ at your house who carries folks off."

The little orphan listened gravely, with wide-opened eyes. Then she replied in the same obstinate drawl,--

"I am going to carry it to my mamma."

"Your mamma is dead; stay here," said one of the neighbors. "Eat your cake."

Then the little girl squatted down on the door-step, the image of sadness, holding her cake in her hand without offering to eat it.

Then suddenly seeing "_il babbo_" coming, she jumped up joyously and ran to meet him.

_Compare_ Meno entered without saying a word, and sat down in a corner, with his hands dangling between his knees, with a long face, and his lips as white as paper; for since the day before, he had not put a morsel of food into his mouth because of his grief. He looked at the women as if to say,--

"_Poveretto me!_"

Seeing the black handkerchief around his neck, the women, with their hands still pasted with dough, made a circle round him and condoled with him in chorus.

"Don't speak of it to me, _comare_ Sidora," he exclaimed, shaking his head, and heaving up his great shoulders. "This is a thorn that will never be pulled out of my heart. That woman was a real saint! I did not deserve her, saving your presence. Only day before yesterday, when she was so sick, she got up to tend to the weaning colt, and she would not let me call in the doctor, or buy any medicine, either--so as to not waste any money. I sha'n't find another wife like her. No I sha'n't, I tell you. Let me weep--I've good reason to."

And he began to shake his head and to heave his shoulders as if his misfortune were a burden not to be borne.

"As to getting another wife," said la Licodiana, to encourage him, "all you've got to do is to look for one."

"No! no!" a.s.severated _compare_ Meno, with his head hung low, like a mule's. "Such another wife is not to be had. This time I shall remain a widower. I tell you I shall."

_Comare_ Sidora interrupted him,--

"Don't say foolish things like that. You must get another wife, if only for the sake of this little orphan girl; for otherwise, who will look out for her when you are out working? You wouldn't let her run in the streets, would you?"

"Then find me another wife like my last one! She would not wash herself, for fear of soiling the water; and at home, she served me better than a farm-hand--affectionate and faithful. Why, she would not take even a handful of beans from the rack, or ever open her mouth to ask for anything. And beside, a fine dowry--things as good as gold.