Nostalgia. Grazia Deledda

tion>

       Grazia Deledda

      Nostalgia

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066215828

Table of Contents

       PART I

       CHAPTER I

       CHAPTER II

       CHAPTER III

       CHAPTER IV

       CHAPTER V

       CHAPTER VI

       CHAPTER VII

       PART II

       CHAPTER I

       CHAPTER II

       CHAPTER III

       CHAPTER IV

       PART III

       CHAPTER I

       CHAPTER II

       CHAPTER III

       CHAPTER IV

       CHAPTER V

       CHAPTER VI

       CHAPTER VII

PART I

       Table of Contents

      NOSTALGIA

CHAPTER I

       Table of Contents

      Rome was near.

      The November moon illuminated the Campagna—an immense mother-o'-pearl moon, clear and sad. The violence of the express train was met by the violence of a raging wind.

      Regina dozed and was dreaming herself still at home; the rumble of the train seemed the clatter of the mill upon the Po. Suddenly Antonio's hand pressed hers and she awoke with a start.

      "We are near arriving," said the young husband.

      Regina sat up, leaned towards the closed window and looked out. The glass reflected the interior of the compartment—the lamp, her own figure wrapped in a long, light-coloured cloak, her face wan with weariness. She half-closed her large, short-sighted eyes, and in the misty moonlight, against the grey background caused by the reflection of her cloak, she made out the landscape—bluish undulations fleeting by, a mysterious pathway, a tree with silver leaves lashed by the wind, and in the distance a long line of aqueducts, the arches of which disappeared into the moonlight and seemed like a row of immense inhospitable doors. This of the aqueducts was no doubt optical illusion; but Regina, who had little confidence in her eyes yet was obstinate in refusing spectacles, felt none the less excited by the sublime visions she believed herself seeing in the dimness of the wind-swept window-pane. Rome! she was filled with childish joy at the mere thought that Rome was near. Rome! the long-dreamed-of wonder city, the world's metropolis, the home of all splendours, all delight—Rome, which was now to become her own! She forgot everything else; fatigue, mourning for the dear things lost, trepidation as to her future, fear of the strangers awaiting her, the embarrassments of the first days of marriage, all sadness, disappointment, delusion—all disappeared in the realisation of her long dream so ardently indulged.

      Antonio got up and joined her at the window, which reflected his fine person—tall, fair, easy in attitude, dominant in manner. Regina saw—still in the glass—his long grey eyes looking at her caressingly, his well-shaped mouth smiling and suggesting a kiss, and she felt happy, happy, happy!

      "Think!" said Antonio, bending over her as if to confide a secret; "think, my queen! We are at Rome!"

      She did not reply. "Are you thinking of it?" he insisted.

      "Of course I am!"

      "Does your heart beat?"

      Regina smiled, a trifle contemptuously, not choosing to let him see all her excitement and delight.

      Antonio looked at his watch.

      "A quarter of an hour more. If there wasn't such a wind, I'd make you look out."

      "I will. Put down the glass."

      "I tell you there's too much wind."

      "I'll look out all the same," she said, with the obstinacy of a spoilt child.

      Antonio tried to open the window, but the wind was really too strong, and Regina changed her mind.

      "Shut it up! Shut it up!" she cried.

      He obeyed.

      "But think! think!" he repeated, "you are at Rome! They will be just starting for the station," he observed gravely, and advised her to put on her hat and get herself ready. "Settle your hair," he said; "and where have you put the powder?"

      "Am I very hideous?" asked Regina, passing her hand over her face.

      She sat down, opened her dressing-bag, smoothed her hair, powdered her face; then again put on the grey cloak which Antonio held for her, and buttoned it up. Her little face emerged from its sable collar as from a cup. It was pale and tired, all lips and eyes, reminding one of the pretty little face of a kitten.

      "That's all right!" said Antonio, surveying her adoringly.

      Again she rose and leaned against the door. A long wall was fleeting past the train; then came houses, hedges, gardens, canes bending under the wind, now and then lamps flaring yellow in the great whiteness of the autumn moon.

      "San Paolo! The Tiber!" said Antonio, still at Regina's side.

      San Paolo! The Tiber! Regina just perceived the sheen of the river and her heart beat strongly. Yet,