After the Divorce by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781911420132
Publisher: Canelo Books
Published: 2019-02-04T00:00:00+00:00

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The following day, just as on that long gone morning, Giovanna was the first to get up. Cold but sparkling, the winter dawn paled behind the curtained windows. Giovanna had gone to bed in a sad mood, more hardened than upset by Porredda’s remarks. Now she looked at the window and felt happy. It would be a fine day and therefore a good journey.

Her thoughts as she lay in bed the previous evening had wandered from Costantino to eternity to her dead baby and to many melancholy things.

‘I’m not really bad,’ she had told herself. ‘God can see what is in our hearts and he judges intentions more than actions. I loved Costantino and I’ve wept oceans of tears. Now I have no tears left. I don’t think he’ll ever come back or, if he does, it’ll be when we’re old and cannot weep any more. Meanwhile I’m flesh and blood like other women. I’m poor and it’s hard for me to resist temptation and sin. To escape one or the other I must take the place God has assigned me. Yes, Porredda, I am thinking of eternity, and it’s to save my soul that I’m doing what I’m doing. No, I’m not wicked, not really wicked.’

Bit by bit she had found solace in the thought that she was, at heart, good and generous. If, in the depths of her conscience, from whence arose the sadness that engulfed her, she did not really think that way, at least her mind told her she was right. Thus comforted she had fallen asleep.

Now the clear bright dawn beat against the windows of the guest room, and Giovanna thought of the sun and became cheerful again.

Her mother also awoke and looked out of the window. ‘It’s going to be a fine day,’ she said, pleased.

Porredda was already in the kitchen. Polite and solicitous, she served coffee to her guests and helped them saddle their horse. She seemed to have forgotten the previous evening’s conversation, but as soon as the two women had left she made a little sign of the cross in the air. She felt as if mortal sin travelled with them.

‘Until we meet again. God be with you on your journey,’ she said, closing the door.

This time the Era women were travelling alone. They rode down into the valley, crossed its floor, and climbed up the other side – to the mountains whose glittering, snow-white peaks stood out sharply against the horizon.

It was cold. There was no wind, but the air was piercing. Enhanced by the continuous noise of rushing streams, an awesome silence reigned over the great wild valley. Short, vivid green winter grass, sprinkled with hoar-frost, covered the verges of the meandering brown pathways. The moss on the rocks smelled rank. A wild, fresh cold reanimated the valleys from which an occasional gnarled tree rose, suddenly, like a naked hermit, exposed in penance to the cold and the dawn light. On the cultivated land the earth was black, while low moss-covered walls rose and fell, twisting and turning like huge green worms.

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