Eleven Short Stories. Luigi Pirandello

questa sera, bada, a sette ore!—disse Jeli e sparì. La fanciulla mandò un grido.

      Abbuiava.

      L’ora stabilita si avvicinava, e Màlia pallida, pallida, con le labbra come due foglioline di rosa secca, stava seduta dinanzi alla porta.

      Guardava il piano verdeggiante che si inondava di buio—e

      Meanwhile the girl was returning toward the little hut, her head lowered.—Jeli had climbed up, still sleepy, with his jacket on his left shoulder and his pipe in his mouth—a pipe that he always allowed to sleep between his teeth.

      As soon as he had come in, he greeted Papa Camillo, while Màlia, the steward’s older daughter, looked him in the face with two eyes like arrows that could pierce a boulder.

      Jeli responded to her look.

      Papa Camillo was a little stump of a man, fat as a wine cask.

      Màlia, on the other hand, had the face of one of Paolo Veronese’s noblewomen, and in her eyes the blessed simplicity of her heart could be clearly read.

      “Listen, Jeli,” said Papa Camillo, “prepare some fruit because tomorrow the master and his family are coming from town.—Good ones, right? … otherwise … I swear to God! …”

      “Oh! Always the same story,” replied Jeli, “and you should know better than to say things like that … and to me of all people! …”

      “Meanwhile,” continued Papa Camillo and, taking him by the arm, led him out of the hut, “meanwhile … if you ever again take it into your head to … Enough! You understand me …”

      Jeli seemed thunderstruck.

      Papa Camillo went down through the valley.

      The situation couldn’t be better, and the young man dashed over to the little hut.

      “We’re lost!” said Màlia.

      “Silly!” said Jeli. “If I don’t succeed by fair means …”

      “Oh! Jeli, Jeli, what do you mean?”

      “What, you don’t understand me? We’ll run away.”

      “Run away?” said the girl, surprised.

      “Or else … ,” Jeli added, and he put his gleaming sickle around his neck …

      “My God!” exclaimed Màlia, as if a shudder ran all through her body.

      “This evening, you hear? At seven o’clock!” said Jeli, and vanished.

      The girl uttered a cry.

      It was becoming dark.

      The arranged time was getting close and Màlia, extremely pale, with lips like two small petals of a dried rose, was sitting in front of the door.

      She was looking at the green plain that was being submerged in

      quando lontanamente la squilla del villaggio suonò l’Ave, pregò anche lei.

      E quel silenzio solenne, parve divina preghiera di Natura!

      Dopo lungo aspettare Jeli venne. Questa volta avea lasciato la pipa, ed era un poco acceso e molto risoluto.

      —Così presto?—disse Màlia tremante.

      —Un quarto prima, un quarto dopo, è sempre tempo guadagnato—rispose Jeli.

      —Ma …

      —Santo diavolo! mi pare tempo di finirla con questi ma … Non sai tu, cuor mio, di che si tratta? …

      —Lo so bene! lo so tanto bene …—s’affrettò a rispondere Màlia, che non poteva adattarsi a quella sconsigliata risoluzione.

      Frattanto un fischio lontano avvertì Jeli che la vettura era pronta.

      —Su via!—disse;—Maliella mia, coraggio! E la gioja che ci chiama …

      Màlia mandò un grido—Jeli la prese per il braccio, e di corsa …

      Come pose il piede nella carretta—A tutta furia!—gridò.

      I due giovani si strinsero e si baciarono con libertà per la prima volta.

      A nove ore papà Camillo ritornò dalla valle e fischiò potentemente.

      Venne la bimba in fretta e prima che fosse giunta:

      —Dove è Jeli?—le domandò;—hai tu veduto Jeli?

      —Padrone! … padrone! …—rispose quella con voce ansante, soffocata.

      —Che cosa vuoi tu dirmi? Mummietta!—ruggì papà Camillo.

      —Jeli … è fuggito … con Maliella …

      — …

      E un suono rauco … selvaggio fuggì dalla strozza di papà Camillo.

      Corse … volò alla capanna: prese lo schioppo e fece fuoco in aria. La fanciulla guardava tramortita.

      Era uno spettacolo strano la collera pazza di quell’uomo. Un riso frenetico scattò dalle sue labbra e si perdé in un rantolo strozzato.—Non sapea più quel che si faceva … E fuori di sé appiccò il fuoco alla capannetta come per distruggere ogni cosa che gli parlava di sua figlia.—Poi di corsa furiosa, con

      darkness—and when, far off, the village bell rang the Angelus, she too prayed.

      And that solemn silence was like a divine prayer of Nature!

      After a long wait Jeli came. This time he had left behind his pipe, and was a little flushed and very determined.

      “So early?” said Màlia, trembling.

      “Fifteen minutes sooner, fifteen minutes later, it’s all time gained,” answered Jeli.

      “But …”

      “Damn it all! I think it’s time to put aside all these ‘buts’ … Darling, don’t you know what we’re undertaking? …”

      “I do know! I know it very well … ,” Màlia hurriedly replied, unable to adjust to that rash determination.

      Meanwhile a distant whistle informed Jeli that their conveyance was ready.

      “Come on!” he said. “Be brave, my little Màlia! It’s happiness that’s calling for us …”

      Màlia uttered a cry—Jeli took her by the arm, and off they ran …

      As he set foot inside the farm wagon, he shouted: “As fast as you can!”

      The two young people embraced and kissed freely for the first time.

      At nine o’clock Papa Camillo returned from the valley and gave a loud whistle.

      The little girl came hurriedly and before she arrived:

      “Where is Jeli?” he asked her. “Have you seen Jeli?”

      “Boss! … Boss! …” she replied in a breathless, stifled voice.

      “What are you trying to tell me? Helpless simpleton!” roared Papa Camillo.

      “Jeli … ran away … with Màlia …”

      “…”

      And a hoarse, … wild sound escaped Papa Camillo’s throat.

      He ran … flew to the hut: he took the carbine and fired into the air. The girl was watching, stunned.

      That man’s mad rage was a strange sight. A frenetic laugh burst from his lips and was lost in a choked rattle.—He no longer knew what he was doing … And, beside himself, he set fire to the little hut as if to destroy everything that spoke to him of his daugh-

      lo schioppo in mano, via per il viale, dove forse sperava trovare gli amanti.

      Per