Tales of My Native Town

by Gabriele D'Annunzio

They remained with her two days. Once Anna saw her father kiss this woman upon the mouth, but she did not understand. On their return the skiff was loaded with oranges, and the sea was still gentle. Anna preserved the remembrance of that voyage as if it were a dream; and, since she was by nature taciturn, she did not recount many stories of it to her comrades, who pursued her with questions.

II

In the following May, to the festival of the Apostle, came the Archbishop of Orsogna. The church was entirely decorated with red draperies and leaves of gold, while before the bronze rails burned eleven silver lamps fashioned by silversmiths for religious purposes, and every evening the orchestra sang a solemn oratorio with a splendid chorus of childish voices. On Saturday the statue of the Apostle was to be shown. Devotees made pilgrimages from all the maritime and inland countries; they came up the coast, singing and bearing in their hands votive offerings, with the sea in full sight.

Anna on Friday had her first communion. The Archbishop was an old man, reverent and gentle, and when he lifted his hand to bless her, the jewel in his ring shone like a divine eye. Anna, when she felt on her tongue the wafer of the Eucharist, became blinded with a sudden wave of joy that seemed to moisten her hair, like a soft and tepid scented bath. Behind her a murmur ran through the multitude; near by other virgins were taking the Sacrament and bowing their faces upon the rail in great contrition.

That evening Francesca wished to sleep, as was the custom among the worshippers, upon the pavement of the church, while awaiting the early morning revelation of the saint. She was seven months with child and the weight of it wearied her greatly. On the pavement, the pilgrims lay crowded together, while heat emanating from their bodies filled the air. Diverse confused cries issued at times from some of those unconscious with sleep; the flames of the burning oil in the cups trembled and were reflected as they hung suspended between the arches, while through the openings of the large doors the stars glittered in the early spring night.

Francesca lay awake for two hours in pain, since the exhalations from the sleepers gave her nausea. But, having determined to resist and to endure for the welfare of her soul, she was overcome at last by weariness and bent her head in sleep. At dawn she awoke. Expectation increased in the souls of the watchers and more people arrived. In each one burned the desire to be the first to see the Apostle. At length the first grating was opened, the noise of its hinges resounding clearly through the silence, and echoing in all hearts. The second grating was opened, then the third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, and finally the last. It seemed now as if a cyclone had struck the crowd. The mass of men hurled themselves toward the tabernacle, sharp cries rang in the air; ten, fifteen persons were wounded and suffocated while a tumultuous prayer arose. The dead were dragged to the open air. The body of Francesca, all bruised and livid, was carried to her family. Many curious ones crowded around it, and her relatives lamented piteously. Anna, when she saw her mother stretched on the bed, purple in the face and stained with blood, fell to the earth unconscious. Afterwards, for many months she was tormented by epilepsy.

III

In the summer of 1835 Luca set sail for a Grecian port upon the skiff “Trinita” belonging to Don Giovanni Camaccione. Moreover, as he held a secret thought in his mind, before leaving, he sold his furniture and asked some relatives to keep Anna in their house until he should return. Some time after that the skiff returned loaded with dried figs and eggs from Corinth, after having touched at the coast of Roto. Luca was not among the crew, and it became known later that he had remained in the “country of the oranges” with a lady-love.

Anna remembered their former stuttering hostess. A deep sadness settled down upon her life at this recollection. The house of her relatives was on the eastern road, in the vicinity of Molo. The sailors came there to drink wine in a low room, where almost all day their songs resounded amid the smoke of their pipes. Anna passed in and out among the drinkers, carrying full pitchers, and her first instinct of modesty awoke from that continuous contact, that continuous association with bestial men. Every moment she had to endure their impudent jokes, cruel laughter and suggestive gestures, the wickedness of men worn out by the fatigues of a sailor’s life. She dared not complain, because she ate her bread in the house of another. But that continuous ordeal weakened her and a serious mental derangement arose little by little from her weakened condition.

Naturally affectionate, she had a great love for animals. An aged ass was housed under a shed of straw and clay behind the house. The gentle beast daily bore burdens of wine from Saint Apollinare to the tavern; and for all that his teeth had commenced to grow yellow, and his hoofs to decay, for all that his skin was already parched and had scarcely a hair upon it, still, at the sight of a flowering thistle he put up his ears and began to bray vivaciously in his former youthful way.