After the Divorce Grazia Deledda (white hot kiss .TXT) 📖

to his sister’s house, and they all three dined together. The little woman, herself widowed and childless, adored her brother, and still referred to him as “my little brother.” But then she loved all her kind, without distinction, and her eyes, slightly crossed, of no colour in particular, and as pure and liquid as two tiny lakes illuminated by the moon, were as innocent as the eyes of a nursing child. She knew that evil existed, but was frightened merely at the thought of men committing sin. One of the great sorrows of her life had been Giovanna’s divorce and re-marriage⁠—her own foster-child, as it were! And to think that she had actually lent them the money for the wedding outfit⁠—!

Giacobbe dearly loved to tease her.

“Here’s our friend Isidoro,” he cried, as the party seated themselves at table. “He is thinking of getting married, and has come to consult you.”

“Bless me, Isidoro Pane, and are you really going to be married?”

“Oh! go along, go along,” said the fisherman good-humouredly.

“So you don’t care about marrying?” cried Giacobbe, holding a piece of roast meat in both hands, and tearing it apart with teeth that were still sound and strong. “Well, you are a dirty beast. Do you know, sister, he has lovers, all the same.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true, though; take me to heaven if it’s not. Yes, he has lovers who suck his blood.”

The others laughed like two children at this humourous allusion to Isidoro’s leeches. Giacobbe began to cut his meat with a sharp knife, holding it between his teeth and left hand, and muttering that it was as tough as the devil’s ear, while his sister and the guest, having once begun, were ready to laugh at everything. Giacobbe’s mood, however, suddenly changed, and for some reason which he himself was at a loss to explain, his good spirits of a few hours before deserted him.

“When we have finished, I’ll take you to see my ‘palace,’ ” he said. “It will be done in a few days now, and if I wanted to I could rent it right away, but I don’t want to; I intend to live in it myself.”

“Then you are not going to hire out any more?”

“No, not after a little while; I have worked enough. I have been working for forty years; do you take that in? Yes, it’s forty years. No one can say I stole the money I have laid away for my old age.”

“And you are going to marry?”

“Poh! Who is there to marry me? I should despise any young woman who was willing to, and I won’t have an old one, not I. Take something more to drink, Isidoro Pane.”

“You must want to make me tipsy!⁠—well, as it’s a holiday⁠—here’s to the bride and groom!”

“What bride and groom?”

“Giacobbe Dejas and Bachissia Era!” said the fisherman, who was waxing merry.

Giacobbe made a quick movement as though to throw himself upon him.

“I’ll knock out your brains!” he cried, his eyes flashing with anger.

“Ah, you murderer!” laughed the other.

“Hush, hush! One should not say such things,” said Aunt Anna-Rosa.

Giacobbe drank off a couple of glasses of wine, and then laughed in rather a forced way, looking sideways at his sister and the fisherman. “See here,” he said suddenly; “why don’t you two get married? Isidoro Pane, my sister is rich, and you see how fresh she is, just like the hip of a wild rose. You’d think she had found some magic herb and made an ointment to preserve her skin.”

“God bless you! How queer you are sometimes!” exclaimed the little woman.

“Yes; you two had better marry; I wish it. My sister is rich; all my property will go to her, because I am going to die first. Somehow, I don’t quite know why, but I feel as though I were going to die soon; I feel as though I were going to be killed⁠—”

“Oh, nonsense! If it happens today, it will come from drinking too much.”

“Dear little brother, what on earth are you talking about? In the name of the wretched souls in purgatory, don’t say such things,” said his sister, greatly distressed.

“You have no enemies,” said Isidoro. “And besides, only those perish by the sword who have used the sword.”

“Well, I have slaughtered many and many an innocent, unoffending fellow-creature,” replied Giacobbe seriously, burying his mouth in a slice of watermelon. “You don’t believe me? Sheep and lambs without number!” and he lifted his face, streaming with the pink juice, and laughed.

Dinner over, the two men went off to look at the new house.

Its two stories⁠—the ground-floor and one above it⁠—were divided into four large bedrooms, a kitchen, and a stable; these accommodations being deemed sufficient to earn for it the title of “palace,” not alone from Giacobbe, but from the entire neighbourhood as well.

“Do you see this? Have you noticed that?” Giacobbe kept calling out, drawing attention to every detail and corner of his property; his clean-shaven face, devoid even of eyebrows, growing, meanwhile, almost youthful in its enthusiasm.

“You had better marry my sister,” he said presently. “This house will be hers some day.”

“You are making fun of me,” replied the other. “Because I am poor, you think you can laugh at me as much as you like.”

The wooden floors filled the simple soul with awe, and he hardly dared to walk on them. Giacobbe, on the contrary, seemed to enjoy stamping about in his great hobnailed boots, and making as much noise as he could in the big, empty rooms, all redolent of fresh plaster.

The two men paused for a moment at an open window, whose stone sill, baked by the sun, felt hot to the touch. The house stood high, and below them, in black shadow, lay the village, looking like a heap of charcoal beneath the green veil of trees. All about stretched the yellow plain, and, beyond, the great violet-grey sphinxes reared themselves against a cloudless sky. The bell of the little church, clamouring insistently, broke in on