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Authors: Natalia Ginzburg
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when he fell ill with trouble in his gall bladder.
Catè cried, blowing her nose loudly in a tiny handkerchief. Her mother had died, too, during the war at Borgo Martino. Her sisters had married and gone to live elsewhere. The stationery shop had vanished, a garage having been put in its place.
They went on to Le Pietre. There was Barba Tommaso still, as always, fresh, rosy, handsome, but in his second childhood. He did not recognize Catè and asked Raffaella in a loud voice,
âWho is it, who is it?â
Magna Maria was in the kitchen with the maid Pinuccia, whom they now had.
Pinuccia and Catè kissed.
Magna Maria gave her some sweet wine and figs, and said
âSo, you have cut your hair off. Ah, splendid splendid!'
She said it, however, with less assurance than of old.
As they came away Catè asked Raffaella to show her the place behind Le Pietre where they had murdered Nebbia.
They went. There was a large tall pointed rock stained with lichen It was just there that they had murdered him.
Catè cried. She touched everything, the rock, the trees around it and the clump of bushes where they found his hat. She looked and touched and wept.
She had not wanted to see Gemmina or Purilla. So they came back by the roadway, avoiding going by La Casetta, and passed by the shrubbery, of the Villa Rondine.
Catè continued to cry. Raffaella said,
âHow you cry I You are a regular fountain!'
However, she took her to her house, and made her lie down on a bed, and gave her a hot-water bottle and some aspirin.
Catè said,
âWhy is everything ruined, everything?â
âWhat is ruined?â said Raffaella.
She wanted to take her to the stables to see the horse before she went away. But Catè knew little about horses. However, she looked at it and smiled, being anxious to please, and said its coat was a good colour. She touched its tail with one finger. But the horse started, and kicked, and she was frightened.
âYou have always been a great coward,â said Raffaella. âDo you remember when we went to the mountains and your legs were all of a tremble coming down, and Nebbia got cross?â
âYes,âsaid Catè.
âAnd when we went to the stream with the children, and I wanted us to dive, and you were afraid?â
âYes,â said Catè and began to cry once more.
âThatâs enough, for Godâs sake,â said Raffaella
Meanwhile Vincenzino had come for her, so she washed her face and said good-bye to Raffaella and went off with Vincenzino by the path which leads to Casa Mercanti.
What a hideous place!' said Catè. âWhat a hideous, hideous place! A really stupid place! I donât know how I managed to stay here all those years.â
They had to make an inventory of the furniture, empty the cupboards, count the articles that belonged to the one or the other, count the plates and table things.
Vincenzino put on his spectacles and began to write in a pocket-book.
Catè, kneeling on the carpet, set about counting the spoons and forks.
âI donât care a rap about all these spoons,â she said suddenly.
âI care less about them than you do,â he said.
âThen why do we count them?â
âBecause it is the thing to do,â said he.
She sighed and began again,
âWhat will you do with this house?â she said, âWill you come and live here with someone?â
âI donât know,â said he.
âIt is a fine house,â she said, âand yet I did not like it when I was here and wanted to look for another, and you did not want to. Do you remember?â
âYes.â
âI was foolish,â she said, âI was foolish, just because I was young, nothing else.
âI got depressed,â she said, looking at all those cabbages from the windows of our room. Now there are no more cabbages on that piece of land. Have they begun to build a shop or something?
âAnd
Catè cried, blowing her nose loudly in a tiny handkerchief. Her mother had died, too, during the war at Borgo Martino. Her sisters had married and gone to live elsewhere. The stationery shop had vanished, a garage having been put in its place.
They went on to Le Pietre. There was Barba Tommaso still, as always, fresh, rosy, handsome, but in his second childhood. He did not recognize Catè and asked Raffaella in a loud voice,
âWho is it, who is it?â
Magna Maria was in the kitchen with the maid Pinuccia, whom they now had.
Pinuccia and Catè kissed.
Magna Maria gave her some sweet wine and figs, and said
âSo, you have cut your hair off. Ah, splendid splendid!'
She said it, however, with less assurance than of old.
As they came away Catè asked Raffaella to show her the place behind Le Pietre where they had murdered Nebbia.
They went. There was a large tall pointed rock stained with lichen It was just there that they had murdered him.
Catè cried. She touched everything, the rock, the trees around it and the clump of bushes where they found his hat. She looked and touched and wept.
She had not wanted to see Gemmina or Purilla. So they came back by the roadway, avoiding going by La Casetta, and passed by the shrubbery, of the Villa Rondine.
Catè continued to cry. Raffaella said,
âHow you cry I You are a regular fountain!'
However, she took her to her house, and made her lie down on a bed, and gave her a hot-water bottle and some aspirin.
Catè said,
âWhy is everything ruined, everything?â
âWhat is ruined?â said Raffaella.
She wanted to take her to the stables to see the horse before she went away. But Catè knew little about horses. However, she looked at it and smiled, being anxious to please, and said its coat was a good colour. She touched its tail with one finger. But the horse started, and kicked, and she was frightened.
âYou have always been a great coward,â said Raffaella. âDo you remember when we went to the mountains and your legs were all of a tremble coming down, and Nebbia got cross?â
âYes,âsaid Catè.
âAnd when we went to the stream with the children, and I wanted us to dive, and you were afraid?â
âYes,â said Catè and began to cry once more.
âThatâs enough, for Godâs sake,â said Raffaella
Meanwhile Vincenzino had come for her, so she washed her face and said good-bye to Raffaella and went off with Vincenzino by the path which leads to Casa Mercanti.
What a hideous place!' said Catè. âWhat a hideous, hideous place! A really stupid place! I donât know how I managed to stay here all those years.â
They had to make an inventory of the furniture, empty the cupboards, count the articles that belonged to the one or the other, count the plates and table things.
Vincenzino put on his spectacles and began to write in a pocket-book.
Catè, kneeling on the carpet, set about counting the spoons and forks.
âI donât care a rap about all these spoons,â she said suddenly.
âI care less about them than you do,â he said.
âThen why do we count them?â
âBecause it is the thing to do,â said he.
She sighed and began again,
âWhat will you do with this house?â she said, âWill you come and live here with someone?â
âI donât know,â said he.
âIt is a fine house,â she said, âand yet I did not like it when I was here and wanted to look for another, and you did not want to. Do you remember?â
âYes.â
âI was foolish,â she said, âI was foolish, just because I was young, nothing else.
âI got depressed,â she said, looking at all those cabbages from the windows of our room. Now there are no more cabbages on that piece of land. Have they begun to build a shop or something?
âAnd
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