He blushed even more, nearly turning purple, but he lowered his eyes and said his thanks, tottering out painfully on his thin legs and feeling worse than if someone had slapped him.

Liboria eventually started pulling out the fine lingerie and linen her mother had left her that was supposed to be part of her dowry. Gna’ Filippa would slip out with the delicate undergarments and beautiful sheets hidden under her shawl, coming back with a few coins that she handed over with loud sighs.

“You wouldn’t believe, miss, how long I walked around. Since it’s about buying, no one thinks it’s good enough.”

“I’m warning you, gna’ Filippa! Don’t mention my name! I’d die of shame.”

One day, after the last pair of embroidered sheets had been sold, she made herself a red dress. It looked bad to go out always dressed in the same thing; it made her seem older, clumsier, poorer, and yet it was necessary to be seen. And with her new dress and her feathered black hat, she now went out even in the daytime, arm in arm with her father, who was more hunched over and smaller than ever in his old green overcoat. And as she walked, she did her best to keep her shoulders straight even when they seemed to curve involuntarily, her eyes wide and restless in a face that was pale and sagging, and a mouth that wanted to affect a happy expression, when all the while the strangest and most melancholy thoughts swirled about in her head.

But once back home, as soon as she reached the stairs, she would let go, and her face took on the usual bitter expression as she vented herself on her father in a voice that choked back tears.

“Is it my fault?” he would answer her. “Ti nesciu, I take you out!”

And you could always see them out on the street and behind all the processions at the very end, among the wave of black shawls and heavy overcoats, the red dress of the lawyer’s daughter standing out, as don Pepe said, like a stick of sealing wax. And without fail, you could see them again in the evenings, sitting silent and still on the Châlet bench in the half-deserted park, where the trees rustled lightly and seemed to murmur sad things.

Her Father’s House

Her Father’s House

Casa paterna

When she got off the boat, Vanna found her father and two brothers Antonio and Nenè waiting.

While Antonio tended to the bags, her father closed his hands around hers just as he’d done when she was a child, and asked: “Why are you alone? Why did you leave so suddenly?”

“I’ll explain later, Papa,” answered Vanna, blushing.

When they were all in the carriage, Antonio said: “If you’d let us know sooner, someone would’ve found a way to…. What were you thinking, coming by yourself?”