‘Did you say Grandfather? Wasn’t the Prince your father?’
‘Yes, yes, I made a mistake. I got flustered, like with him … I, I…’
As if cowering in trepidation, she huddled in my arms. How could she seem so tall from a distance, yet so small in my arms? How did she manage to go from tears to laughter so quickly it made you dizzy?
‘May I ask how old you are, Beatrice?’
‘You noticed, didn’t you, Modesta? You see and notice everything.’
‘No, I don’t see. As a matter of fact, I’m beginning to feel really confused with all these names, these aunts and uncles, grandparents … Really, I’m sorry to ask you so many questions, it’s just to…’
‘But I like it when you ask questions! You seem less like a nun … Oh, sorry! I meant less serious, more like me. Your hair, is it thick? You wear it so tightly pulled back, I can’t tell. Let me undo this bun, this tuppo is just like the one my tata had … Let me, just this once!’
‘Of course, go ahead if it makes you happy. I see you’re smiling again.’
‘Come over here, beside the window. Dear God, all those hairpins! You’ll damage your hair this way. It’s harmful to pull it so tight.’
‘I won’t need it where I’m going. After the novitiate they’ll cut it.’
‘Don’t say that! You mustn’t say that! I can’t bear to think about it … Two more months and … do you realize we’ve known each other for a month? Don’t go away! Don’t leave!’
She was crying now, in the farthest corner of the room. It was her way of distancing me. But by now I knew how to get her to come back and how to make her smile. All I had to do was distract her with something new. I finished removing all my hairpins, and with my heavy braids thumping behind me at each step … how long had it been since I felt that vital weight? like when I would go and look for Tuzzu …
‘If you don’t keep quiet I’ll cut off your braids and go and sell them in the village. Nice and thick they are, sturdy. So help me God, if I can make even a lira I’ll do it!’
‘Are they worth that much?’
‘Of course!’
‘What do they do with them?’
‘Make wigs for old people.’
‘What are wigs?’
‘Uffa! What a nuisance! Always questions and more questions! I don’t have time and I don’t feel like answering you. Be quiet, I have work to do!’
‘Be quiet, Beatrice! Hush! Look, look what a surprise. Hold the hairpins, come on, look!’
‘How thick they are! One of yours would make braids for me and two others … What’s wrong? You have tears in your eyes. Oh God, I’ve never seen you cry! Oh God! No one will tell Maman. Have you lost your vocation?’
‘No, I haven’t lost it. Mother Leonora gave it to me and…’
‘So then you’re crying because, even though you haven’t lost your vocation, you’re sorry to leave me, right? Tell me, are you sorry?’
‘Yes, I’m sorry.’
‘That makes me feel better. I was afraid, because they say that people in the convent love no one but God. That’s what Aunt Leonora used to say … How strange; with your braids you look even younger. And you, how old are you?’
‘I was born on 1 January 1900. That’s what the archivist at the convent told me. She said that with me it was easy to keep count.’
‘So that makes you seventeen, like…’
‘Like who?’
‘Like me.’
27
‘Go on, you realized it! I can tell you’re not surprised. Maman is right: you see and notice everything. She also says she hasn’t met many young women as intelligent and determined as you. And she’s very annoyed because she can’t seem to come up with a nickname for you. She says you’re the opposite of your given name and … why are you turning pale? She’s not angry with you! You know how she is; she’s just irritated that she can’t manage to find you a nickname.’
Terrified, I was about to draw my hair back up in a bun. Beatrice was naive, but the Princess was not; it would mean trouble for me if she were to see my braids!
‘What are you doing? No, no, leave them down! Besides I have the hairpins now and I’m not giving them to you! I’m so glad you realized it! That way I don’t have to pretend not to be lame, or older … But please, don’t let Nonna know you know.’
‘So then the Princess is your grandmother, and not your mother?’
‘How could she have had me? I don’t know how old she is. She seemed very young to me too, before Ignazio left for the war, but then when they brought him back on a stretcher, in just a few months she became all ashen and shrivelled. I hate seeing her that way. Up until two years ago, you should have seen her ride a horse … Not even Carmine could keep up with her.’
‘Who is Carmine?’
‘Indeed. That’s the point. Will you let me undo your braids?’
‘No, Beatrice, no. It’s not permitted. But then, whose daughter are you?’
‘That I can’t tell you. I really can’t. I might cause you to lose your vocation and like Nonna says, your vocation is the only asset you have.’
‘It’s not as easy as you may think. When it’s deeply rooted, as it is in me, nothing can change it. But wait: you said you might cause me to lose…’
‘There, you figured it out! Yes, because Mother Leonora was my mother. Dear God, how pale you are! But I didn’t tell you! You realized it yourself, didn’t you? You figured it out yourself! I don’t want to take away your vocation.’
‘It’s all right, Beatrice. No, you didn’t tell me. I realized it myself.’
‘Still it’s one thing to assume something and another thing to know for sure, isn’t it? How pale you are!’
‘Just a minute. I’m going to wash my face.’
In the small bathroom I leaned over the sink and nearly vomited. I was trembling all over but not because I was upset, as Beatrice thought … That abominable woman … The appalling fiancé, the debutantes’ ball, her panic in the face of worldly corruption … Not to mention the Madonna who had enlightened her about the man’s dreadfulness. God’s grace, her vocation! Yet all the while she had had a man!
To cool that hatred, I began slapping myself with cold water, until I saw the face of a serene, unsmiling nun in the mirror. As I went back to Beatrice, who was waiting anxiously, her hands full of hairpins, I kept thinking damn you, you liar, I hate you.
‘I didn’t tell you, Modesta! It was you who realized it, you!’
‘Of course, Beatrice, of course.’
‘How calm you are now! Did Mother Leonora’s sin make you lose your vocation?’
‘“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone”, Beatrice. Besides, Mother Leonora completely atoned for her sin in solitude and prayer. Though I haven’t sinned, none the less I feel unworthy compared to her!’
Horrified, I could hear Mother Leonora’s voice speaking through my lips. Could the hatred have reawakened her inside me? The prayer of hatred can do anything; it can bestow both life and death, anything.
‘Now tell me, there’s a good girl, tell me. Who was your father? The officer to whom she had been promised?’
‘If you let me undo your braids here, in the sunlight, I’ll tell you.’
‘Go ahead, little one.’
‘How sweet your voice is now. You’re a saint, Modesta! You let people do anything to you and you accept it all without rebelling. How do you do it? I wish I were like you! Such beautiful hair! Can I comb it for you?’