Eleven Short Stories. Luigi Pirandello

the puzzled townspeople into pernicious priers. The fruitless questioning of the son-in-law’s female companion, a secondary element in the story, becomes the all too carefully prepared climax of the play, in which she appears symbolically veiled, changing the whole tone of the proceedings. Above all, the play lacks the extreme charm of the final two paragraphs of the story, in which the relationship of the two main characters is more lovingly described, and in which it is even possible to detect a delicious conspiracy against the reign of reason and the tyranny of truth.

      ¹All dates given in the present volume are those of first publication (for stories and novels) or of first performance (for plays).

      ²One feature of Italian that cannot be reflected sufficiently in an English version is the variation in the second-person mode of address: from the intimate tu (with second person singular verb forms), through the mildly respectful voi (with second person plural verb forms; no longer in current use), to the fully respectful lei and super-respectful Ella (with third person singular verb forms). In “Lumie di Sicilia” (Citrons from Sicily) the servant switches from voi to lei and back depending on his appraisal of Micuccio’s status; Micuccio says voi to his fiancée’s mother, who says tu to him. In “Una voce” (A Voice), the Marchese’s companion no longer addresses him as lei but as tu after their engagement, whereas at one point she is addressed with a quite sarcastic Ella by the doctor. And so on. Wherever voi is a plural, however (that is, more than one tu), an attempt has been made to indicate this in the English by means of some such device as “the two of you.”

      ³The name Jeli had already been used in Verga’s important story “Jeli il pastore” (Jeli the Shepherd), in which, moreover, the hero’s wife is named Mara (compare Màlia in the Pirandello story).

      ⁴The above discussion of the story reflects what the translator believes to have been Pirandello’s intentions. There is ample evidence in the story, however, to suggest viewing Perazzetti as a homosexual, barely aware of his true leanings, whose “wild imagination” is a mental mechanism for avoiding marriage with at least a plausible excuse to society and to himself.

       CAPANNETTA

      BOZZETTO SICILIANO

      Un’alba come mai fu vista.

      Una bimba venne fuori della nera capannetta, coi capelli arruffati sulla fronte e con un fazzoletto rosso-sbiadito in testa.

      Mentre andava bottonando la dimessa vesticciola, sbadigliava, ancora abbindolata dal sonno, e guardava: guardava lontano, con gli occhi sbarrati come se nulla vedesse.

      In fondo, in fondo, una lunga striscia di rosso infuocato s’intrecciava in modo bizzarro col verde-smeraldo degli alberi, che a lunga distesa lontanamente si perdevano.

      Tutto il cielo era seminato di nuvolette d’un giallo croceo, acceso.

      La bimba andava sbadatamente, ed ecco … diradandosi a poco a poco una piccola collina che a destra s’innalzava le si sciorina davanti allo sguardo l’immensità delle acque del mare.

      La bimba parve colpita, commossa dinanzi a quella scena, e stette a guardar le barchette che volavano su l’onde, tinte d’un giallo pallido.

      Era tutto silenzio.—Aliava ancora la dolce brezzolina della notte, che faceva rabbrividire il mare, e s’innalzava lento, lento un blando profumo di terra.

      Poco dopo la bimba si volse—vagò per quell’incerto chiarore, e giunta sull’alto del greppo, si sedette.

      Guardò distratta la valle verdeggiante, che le rideva di sotto, ed aveva cominciato a cantilenare una delicata canzonetta.

      Ma, ad un tratto, come colpita da un’idea, smise di cantare, e con quanta voce aveva in gola, gridò:

      —Zi’ Jeli! Oh zi’ Jee …

      E una voce grossolana rispose da la valle:

      —Ehh …

      —Salite su … ché il padrone vi vuole! …

       LITTLE HUT

      SICILIAN SKETCH

      A dawn like none ever seen.

      A little girl came out of the small dark hut, with her hair tousled on her forehead and with a faded red kerchief on her head.

      While she buttoned up her plain little dress, she was yawning, still confusedly half-asleep, and she was gazing: gazing into the distance, with her eyes wide open as if she saw nothing.

      Far away, far away, a long streak of flaming red was strangely interwoven with the emerald green of the trees, which extended a great distance until disappearing from sight a long way off.

      The entire sky was spattered with little clouds of a flaming saffron yellow.

      The girl was walking inattentively, and there! … as a small hill that rose on the right was gradually lost to her view, the immensity of the waters of the sea was displayed before her eyes.

      The girl seemed impressed, moved in the face of that scene, and stopped to look at the small boats that were skimming on the waves, tinged a pale yellow.

      All was silence.—The gentle little night breeze was still blowing, creating trembling ripples on the sea, and slowly, slowly a pleasing smell of earth arose.

      Shortly afterward the girl turned—wandered in that weak morning light and, when she reached the top of the rocky bank, sat down.

      She absentmindedly viewed the green valley that smiled to her from below, and she had begun to hum a charming little song.

      But all at once, as if struck by an idea, she stopped singing and, in the loudest tone she could muster, cried:

      “‘Uncle’ Jeli! Oh, ‘Uncle’ Je …”¹

      And a coarse voice answered from the valley:

      “Eh …”

      “Climb up … because the boss wants you! …”

      *

      ¹“Uncle” and “aunt” were respectful terms of address in rural speech, for people older than the speaker but of the same social class.

      Frattanto la bimba ritornava verso la capannetta, a capo basso.—Jeli era salito ancora sonnacchioso con la giacca sull’omero sinistro e la pipa in bocca—pipa, che sempre lasciava dormire tra i denti.

      Appena entrato salutò papà Camillo, mentre Màlia, la figlia maggiore del castaldo, gli piantò in faccia due occhi come saette, da bucare un macigno.

      Jeli ripose allo sguardo.

      Era papà Camillo un mozzicone di uomo, grosso come una botte.

      Màlia all’incontro aveva il volto d’una dama di Paolo Veronese, e negli occhi ci si leggeva chiaramente la beata semplicità del suo cuore.

      —Senti, Jeli,—disse Papà Camillo,—prepara delle frutta, ché domani verranno i signori di città.—Buoni, sai! … se no … Come è vero Dio! …

      —Oh! sempre la stessa storia,—rispose Jeli,—e sapete voi che queste le son cose da dire … e poi … a me! …

      —Intanto,—riprese papà Camillo—e prendendolo pel braccio lo portò fuori della capanna—intanto … , se un’altra volta ti viene il ticchio di … Basta. Tu mi capisci …

      Jeli rimase come interdetto.

      Papà Camillo scese per la valle.

      Non si potea dar di meglio e il giovane saltò alla capannetta.

      —Siamo perduti!—fece Màlia.

      —Sciocca!—disse Jeli,—se non ci riesco con le buone …

      —Oh! Jeli, Jeli che vuoi tu dire?

      —Come, non mi comprendi?