Castellinaria, and Other Sicilian Diversions Part 9

MYSELF: If he is the Prince of the Devils of course they must; but this seems rather a large order. Come to Ettorina. Why don't you come to Ettorina?

ALESS: One moment, if you please; first you must know that--

CARO: Signor Enrico, who are your friends at Calatafimi?

MYSELF: I know a baritone singer and his father and mother, two or three landed proprietors and the custode of the Temple of Segesta who lives at Calatafimi and is great friend of mine. I also know another--

CARM: It is not true. How many ladies do you know at Calatafimi?

MYSELF: Well, let me see. I don't think I can exactly--

CARO: Tell us about the young ladies of Calatafimi, you like them better than you like us.

(_Here sobs were heard_;_ Nina's head and shoulders had fallen over the back of her chair_, _her hair had come down an she was weeping gently but inconsolably_.)

MYSELF: I shall be back in three days.

(_Whereupon Nina recovered herself and fixed her eyes on the ceiling with an expression of beatific joy such as is worn by S. Caterina da Siena when the ring is being put on her finger in the pictures_._ Nina's hair had now to be done up and it is magnificent hair_, _l.u.s.trous_, _black_, _wavy thick and long--for a girl of fourteen_, _wonderful_._ Her two sisters did it up as though it usually came down about this time of the evening and she submitted in the same spirit_._ It was no concern of ours_.)

PAPA: It is now one year since you were last in Palermo and it seems like yesterday--do I explain myself?

GILDO (_so that everyone could hear_): I have kept all your post-cards in a secret place. No one suspects that I have received them.

ALESS: You must know that before Malagigi died he--

CARO: Signor Enrico, why do you wear spectacles?

MYSELF: In order that I may more clearly contemplate your beauty.

CARO: I do not believe you.

CARM: Signor Enrico, why do you wear your hair so short?

MYSELF: In order that--

CARO: Signor Enrico, why do you wear that little beard, that barbetta?

CARM: Signor Enrico, why do you wear--?

ALESS: Why do you wear a coat and waistcoat?

GILDO: Why do you wear boots?

PAPA: Why do you--?

NINA: I can tell you why he does all these things. It is to make the young ladies of Calatafimi go mad for love of him as the daughter of Cladinoro went mad for love of Ruggiero Persiano.

MYSELF: I have never heard of Ruggiero Persiano. Who was he, a paladin?

NINA: Yes; a cavaliere errante.

MYSELF: Then who was the daughter of Cladinoro?

NINA: Ettorina.

MYSELF: Do you mean to say that Ettorina went mad for love of Ruggiero Persiano?

NINA: Yes.

MYSELF (_rising to go_): Finalmente!

ALESS: Yes, but first you must know--

MYSELF: All right, Buffo, never mind about that; at last I know who Ettorina was and why she went mad and that will do for the present.

Thank you very much and good night.

GILDO: That is what I said. Why did you laugh when I said that?

MYSELF: Say it again, Gildo, and I won't laugh this time.

GILDO: Thank you very night and good much.

MYSELF: Bravo. If you go on at this rate you will soon be speaking English like a native.

I took leave of the young ladies, and Papa, Alessandro and Gildo accompanied me to the albergo, where they left me. As I approached my bedroom door I looked up over it half-expecting to see there the words which, years ago, I had seen written over the entrance to a Tuscan monastery:

O beata Solitudo!

O sola Beat.i.tudo!

CHAPTER IV MALAGIGI

Next morning I called on the buffo in his workshop. His two combustible Turkish pavilions were finished, ready to be fired by Ettorina, and he was full of his devils. I inquired why we were doing Guido Santo so soon; it was only a year since my last visit to Palermo, when I had witnessed his lamented end after a fortnight of starvation in prison, and, at this rate, the story would be over in fourteen months instead of lasting eighteen. The buffo said they had made the experiment of shortening it. If one has to shorten a story, probably the _Paladins of France_ with its continuations would suffer less from the process than many others. At all events it could scarcely grow longer, as a work of art so often does when one tries to shorten it.

The devils were naturally among the dramatis personae of the teatrino, but they had to be got ready and repaired and provided with all things necessary for them to make the subterranean road. I said:

"I am not sure that I quite followed all you told me last night."

"There was perhaps a little confusion?" he inquired apologetically.

"Not at all," I replied politely; "but I never heard of Argantino before.

Did you say he was the son of Malagigi?"

"That is right. He did not happen to be at Roncisvalle, so he was not killed with Orlando and the other paladins. An angel came to him and said, 'Now the Turks will make much war against the Christians and, since the Christians always want a magician, it is the will of heaven that you shall have the rod of Malagigi, who is no longer here, and that Guido Santo shall have la Durlindana, the sword of Orlando.' And it was so, and Argantino thereafter appeared as a pilgrim."

"I remember about Malagigi; he made all Rinaldo's armour."