Cavalleria Rusticana and Other Stories by Giovanni Verga

Author:Giovanni Verga [Verga, Giovanni]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Italian Literature, Classics, Short Stories, Fiction
ISBN: 9780140447415
Publisher: Penguin UK
Published: 1896-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

How, when and why

Signor Polidori and Signora Rinaldi were in love – or thought they were – which sometimes amounts to the same thing; and if there is such a thing as love on this earth, they were truly made for one another. Polidori enjoyed an income of forty thousand lire and a dreadful reputation as a thoroughly bad lot, and Signora Rinaldi was a vapid, pretty little woman with a husband who worked his fingers to the bone to ensure that she could live as though he, too, were earning forty thousand. But she never did anything to provoke the tiniest shred of gossip, even though the proud beauty had aroused the interest of all Polidori’s friends, parading before her with flowers in their buttonholes. Finally chance, destiny, the will of God or that of the Devil tugged at the hem of her dress, and the proud beauty fell.

When we say she fell, we mean that she had let fall on Polidori that first soft, languid, come-hither look that causes the serpent hidden at the foot of the tree of seduction to tremble at the knees. Falls at breakneck speed are rare, and they sometimes frighten the serpent away. Before descending from one branch to the next, Signora Rinaldi was careful to see where she should place her feet, and pulled a thousand pretty faces, pretending she really wanted to escape towards the top of the tree. She had perched for about a month on the branch of epistolary contact, an unstable and hazardous branch that stirs in every little scented breeze. They had begun with the excuse of borrowing or returning a book, requiring a piece of information, that sort of thing. The fair lady would have liked to perch for quite a while on that branch, chirping prettily away as only women can, rocking to and fro between heaven and earth. But once he had unburdened himself, Polidori quickly turned monosyllabic, laconic and impatient, like a man driven to despair. The poor dear had no option but to shut her eyes, raise her wings, and allow herself to glide a little lower.

‘I didn’t read your letter, and I don’t intend to!’ she told him when she met him at the last ball of the season, as they joined a line of other couples. ‘As you are not the gentleman I thought you were, leave me alone to remain as I want to be.’

Polidori gave her a very serious look, twitching his moustache, his head bowed. The other dancers, having no reason to stand chattering in the doorway, pushed them in towards the ballroom. The woman blushed, as though she had been surprised in a secret tête-à-tête with him.

Polidori – the serpent – took note of that fleeting change of colour.

‘You know I shall always obey you, whatever happens,’ he replied smoothly.

The diamond cross glittered on her bosom as it billowed in triumph. All that evening, a horde of admirers in her wake, Signora Rinaldi danced like a madwoman, choosing a new partner each time she took to the floor.

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