“Yes, the fact is I will not go where I have to meet that man.”
“You? you believe that M. de Gooch has the evil eye?”
“It is all very well for you to look scornful! Just wait a little. I used to take your point of view, but so many uncomfortable things happened that I now avoid the man like the plague.”
“What sort of uncomfortable things?”
“We were once at a hotel in Naples. The first time that person—it is not well to mention his name—came into the dining-room, a waiter stumbled and dropped a tray full of valuable Venetian glass; every piece was smashed: the second time, the big chandelier fell down from the ceiling. That evening the proprietor begged this person to leave the hotel, said all the other guests would go if he did not, as it was evident he had the malocchio. Basta! let us speak of other things.”
After the visitor left I went up to the terrace to feed the goldfish. Pompilia was on her knees digging around the roots of the big honeysuckle. I looked at Soracte, beloved of Horace. Soracte looked at me.
“Pompilia, do you know any one who has the malocchio?” She turned pale, scrambled to her feet, and made the sign against witchcraft with the first and fourth finger.
“Signora mia, che pavra mi ha fatto (What a fright you gave me)!” She reflected a moment: “You remember the carbonaro who used to bring the charcoal every Saturday? I told you he cheated us; you discharged him. It was not true, he gave good measure. I do not wish to harm him, but every time he came into the kitchen some disgrazia happened. The soup was burned, the milk curdled, or the salt got into the ice-cream.”
“Do you believe the carbonaro wished to injure us? Did he desire to bring misfortune?”
“It is his misfortune to bring misfortune,” Pompilia reluctantly explained; “one may even be sorry for him, but one spits as one passes him, and makes the corni (horns) with the hand behind the back to avert the jettatura. Ma, Signora mia, per carità, parliamo d’altre cose (For charity’s sake, let us talk of other things)! Observe this noble tulip, the first to bloom of those Hollandish bulbs we set out in the autumn.” She feels the flowers to be hers quite as much as ours, as indeed they are, she is so faithful in caring for them.