The Oil Jar and Other Stories (7 page)

Strictly speaking, nothing was serious to Perazzetti. Everything depends on the importance you attach to things. If you attach importance to the most ridiculous thing, it can become deadly serious, and vice versa, the most serious matter can become altogether ridiculous. Is there anything more serious than death? And yet, for those many people who attach no importance to it ...

All right; but his friends wanted to see him a few days later. Who knows how he would regret it!

“No kidding!” Perazzetti would answer. “Of course I'll regret it! I'm already beginning to regret it ... ”

When he came out with that sally, his friends would begin to cry out:

“Ah! You see?”

“But, you fools,” Perazzetti would retort, “at the exact moment I truly regret it, I'll reap the benefit of my cure, because that will mean I've fallen in love again, to the point of committing the most vulgar of bestial acts: that of taking a wife.”

Chorus of voices:

“But you've already taken one!”

Perazzetti:

“That one? Go on, now! That one's not to be taken seriously.” Conclusion:

Perazzetti had gotten married to protect himself from the danger of taking a wife.

For three days Professor
⁸
Agostino Toti hasn't had at home that peace, that laughter to which he thinks he is by now entitled.

Yes, he's about seventy, and you couldn't even say that he was a fine-looking old man: on the short side, with a big bald head, no neck, an outsize torso on two skinny legs like a bird's ...

Professor Toti is well aware of this, and doesn't delude himself in the least, therefore, into thinking that Maddalena, his pretty little wife, who is not yet twenty-six, can love him for his own sake.

It's true that she was poor when he took her and that he improved her station in life: the daughter of a janitor in the high school, she became the wife of a permanent-staff teacher of natural sciences, with a claim to the maximum pension in a few months now; not only that, but also wealthy for the last two years thanks to an unexpected piece of good luck, truly like manna from heaven: an inheritance of nearly two hundred thousand
lire,
from a brother who had emigrated to Romania long ago and had died there a bachelor.

And yet, even with all that, Professor Toti wouldn't think he had a right to peace and laughter. He's a philosopher: he knows that all this wouldn't be enough for a young, pretty wife.

If his inheritance had arrived before the wedding, he might possibly have been able to ask Maddalena to have a little patience, that is, to wait for his death, not far off now, in order to be compensated for the sacrifice of having married an old man. But those two hundred thousand
lire
had come too late, two years after the wedding, when already ... when Professor Toti had already philosophically realized that the small pension alone that he would leave her one day couldn't suffice to repay his wife for her sacrifice.

Having already made all those concessions, Professor Toti thinks he is more right than ever in claiming peace and laughter now, with the addition of that respectable inheritance. All the more so because—being a truly wise and decent man—he wasn't satisfied with benefiting his wife, but also decided to benefit ... yes, him, his good Giacomino, formerly one of his best students at the high school, a shy, honest, very courteous young man, handsome as a cherub.

Yes, yes—old Professor Agostino Toti has done everything, has thought of everything, philosophically. Giacomino Pugliese had been unemployed, and his idleness was troubling him and depressing him; all right, he, Professor Toti, had found him a job in the Farmers' Bank, where he deposited the two hundred thousand
lire
he had inherited.

There's a child in the house, too, now, a little angel of two and a half, to whom he has become entirely devoted, like a loving slave. Every day he can't wait for the lessons at the high school to be over, so he can run home and humor his little tyrant's slightest whim. To tell the truth, after the inheritance he could have retired, giving up that maximum pension, so that he could spend all his time with the child. But no! It would have been a sin! Inasmuch as it exists, he wants to bear that yoke of his, which he has always found so burdensome, to the very end! After all, he took a wife for that very reason, just so someone could benefit from what had been a torment to him all his life!

Marrying with this single purpose, to benefit a poor young woman, he has loved his wife solely with a quasi-paternal affection. And he started loving her more paternally than ever from the time the child was born, the child by whom he would almost prefer to be called grandfather rather than daddy. This unwitting lie on the pure little lips of the ignorant child hurts him; he feels that even his love for him suffers from it. But what's to be done? He
must
receive with a kiss that name coming from Ninì's sweet little mouth,. that “daddy” which gets a laugh from all the spiteful people who are unable to understand his loving feelings for that innocent creature, his happiness over the good that he has done and continues to do for a woman, a worthy young man, the little one, and himself as well—of course!—himself as well—the happiness of living these last years in cheerful, pleasant company, walking on the edge of the grave with a little angel holding his hand.

Let them laugh, let all the spiteful people laugh at him! What does that matter to him? He is happy.

But for three days ...

What can have happened? His wife's eyes are swollen and red from crying; she says she has a bad headache; she doesn't want to leave her room.

“Ah, youth! ... youth! ... ” Professor Toti sighs, shaking his head with a sad, sly smile in his eyes and on his lips. “Some cloud ... some little thunderstorm ... ”

And with Ninì he wanders around the house, troubled, nervous, also a little irritated, because ... no, he really doesn't deserve such treatment from his wife and from Giacomino. Young people don't count the days: they have so many still ahead of them ... But for a poor old man the loss of a day is serious! And it's been three now that his wife has been leaving him alone in the house this way, like a fly without a head, and no longer treating him to those little airs and songs sung in her clear, impassioned little voice, and no longer lavishing those cares on him to which he is now accustomed.

Ninì, too, is as serious as can be, as if he understands that his Mommy's mind is too occupied to pay attention to him. The Professor takes him along from one room to the other, and has practically no need to stoop down to give him his hand, he's so small himself; he leads him in front of the piano, presses down a few keys here and there, snorts, yawns, then sits down, gives Ninì a ride on his knees for a while, then stands up again: he's on pins and needles. Five or six times he has tried to force his little wife to speak.

“Bad, eh? You're really feeling bad?”

Little Maddalena persists in not wanting to tell him anything; she weeps; she asks him to close the balcony shutters and take Ninì to another room: she wants to be alone in the dark.

“Your head, eh?”

Poor thing, her head aches so ... Ah, the quarrel must have been really a major one!

Professor Toti moves on to the kitchen and tries to start a conversation with the young maid, to get some information out of her; but he beats around the bush, because he knows that the maid is hostile to him; she speaks ill of him, outside the house, like all the rest, and criticizes him. He fails to learn anything, even from the maid.

And then Professor Toti makes a heroic resolution: he takes Ninì to his mother and asks her to dress him up nicely.

“Why?” she asks.

“I'm taking him for a little walk,” he replies. “Today is a holiday ... He's bored here, poor kid!”

His mother is unwilling. She knows that evil-minded people laugh when they see the old Professor walking hand in hand with the little one; she knows that one insolent scoundrel went so far as to say to him: “My, how your son resembles you, Professor!”

But Professor Toti insists.

“No, for a walk, for a walk ... ”

And with the child he goes to Giacomino Pugliese's house.

Giacomino lives together with a sister of marriageable age who has been a mother to him. Unaware of the reason for the kindnesses showered on her brother, Miss Agata was at first very grateful to Professor Toti; now, instead—being extremely religious—she puts him on a par with the devil, neither more nor less, because he has led her Giacomino into mortal sin.

Professor Toti has to wait in front of the door with the little one for quite some time after ringing the bell. Miss Agata came to look through the peephole and fled. No doubt she went to inform her brother of the visit, and now she'll come back and say that Giacomino isn't home.

Here she is. Dressed in black, with a waxen complexion, thin as a stick, sullen, as soon as the door is open she attacks the Professor, all aquiver.

“How's this? ... Excuse me ... Now you're coming to see him in his own house, too? ... And what's this I see? With the child, too? You brought the child, too?”

Professor Toti wasn't expecting this kind of reception; he's dumbfounded; he looks at Miss Agata, looks at the little one, smiles, stammers:

“Wh... why? ... What's wrong? ... Can't I ... can't ... can't I come to ... ”

“He's not in!” she hurriedly resumes, in her arid, harsh manner. “Giacomino's not in.”

“All right,” says Professor Toti, bowing his head. “But you, Miss ... forgive me ... you treat me in a fashion that ... I don't know! I don't think I've dealt with either your brother or you ... ”

“Now, Professor,” Miss Agata interrupts him, somewhat appeased. “Believe me, we're ... we're extremely grateful to you, but even
you
ought to understand ... ”

Professor Toti half-closes his eyes, smiles again, raises one hand and then touches his chest several times with his fingertips to indicate that, when it comes to understanding, he's the one for the job.

“I'm old, Miss,” he says, “and I do understand ... I understand so many things! And look, first and foremost, I understand this: that it's necessary to let certain angers evaporate and, when misunderstandings arise, the best thing is to clarify matters ... to clarify them, Miss, clarify them frankly, without subterfuges, without getting heated up ... Don't you agree?”

“Of course I do ... ,” Miss Agata acknowledges, at least in the abstract.

“And so,” resumes Professor Toti, “let me in and call Giacomino for me.”

“But I tell you he's not in!”

“You see? No. You mustn't tell me he's not in. Giacomino is at home, and you must call him for me. We'll clarify everything calmly ... tell him that: calmly! I'm old and I understand everything, because I was also young once, Miss. Calmly, tell him that. Let me in.”

Ushered into the humble parlor, Professor Toti sits down with Nini between his knees, resigned to waiting a long time here, too, while Giacomino's sister is persuading him to come.

“No, here, Nini ... that's a good boy!” he says from time to time to the child, who would like to go over to a shelf on which some porcelain knickknacks are sparkling; and meanwhile he racks his brains wondering what the devil could have happened in his house that was so serious, without his having noticed it at all. Little Maddalena is so good-natured! What wrong could she have committed to cause such a fierce and strong resentment, here, even in Giacomino's sister?

Professor Toti, who up to now has thought it was a passing spat, is starting to get worried and seriously alarmed.

Ah, here is Giacomino finally! God, what an angry face! What a ruffled manner! What's this? Oh, no, not that! He coldly shuns the child, who has run to meet him with his little hands outstretched, crying:

‘“Giamì! Giamì!'”

“Giacomino!” Professor Toti, who is hurt, exclaims with severity.

“What do you have to say to me, Professor?” Giacomino quickly asks him, avoiding looking him in the eye. “I'm unwell ... I was in bed ... I'm in no shape to talk or even bear the sight of anybody ... ”

“But the child?!”

“There,” Giacomino says; and he stoops down to kiss Nini.

“You're not well?” Professor Toti resumes, somewhat comforted by that kiss. “I thought as much. And that's why I came. Your head, eh? Sit down, sit down ... Let's have a talk. Here, Ninì ... You hear? ‘Giamì' is ‘sick.' Yes, dear, ‘sick' ... here, poor ‘Giamì' ... Be good; we're leaving right away. I meant to ask you,” he adds, addressing Giacomino, “whether the director of the Farmers' Bank told you anything.”

“No, why?” says Giacomino, becoming even more perturbed.

“Because I spoke to him yesterday,” says Professor Toti with a mysterious little smile. “Your salary isn't all that big, son. And you know that a word from me ... ”

Giacomino Pugliese writhes on his chair and clenches his fists till he sinks his nails into the palms of his hands.

“Professor, I thank you,” he says, “but do me the favor, the very great favor, of no longer troubling yourself over me, won't you?”

“Oh, really?” answers Professor Toti with that little smile still on his lips. “Good man! We no longer need anybody, eh? But what if I wanted to do it for my own pleasure? My good man, if I'm not to take care of you any more, whom do you want me to take of? I'm old, Giacomino! And old people—assuming they're not selfish! —old people like to see deserving youngsters like you get ahead in life with their help; and they get enjoyment out of the youngsters' happiness, their hopes, the position they gradually assume in society. Now, with regard to you, I ... come now, you know it ... I look on you as a son ... What's wrong? You're crying?”

Indeed, Giacomino has hidden his face in his hands and is shaken as if by an attack of weeping that he'd like to hold back.

Ninì looks at him in dismay, then, addressing the Professor, says:

‘“Giamì,' stick ... ”

The Professor gets up and starts to put a hand on Giacomino's shoulder; but the young man leaps to his feet as if repelled at the thought, shows his face, which is distorted as if by a sudden fierce resolution, and shouts at him in exasperation:

“Don't come near me! Professor, go away, I beg of you, go away! You're making me suffer the torments of hell! I don't deserve this affection of yours and I don't want it, I don't want it ... For heaven's sake, go away, take away the child and forget that I exist!”

Professor Toti stands there amazed; he asks:

“But why?”

“I'll tell you right away!” Giacomino answers. “I'm engaged, Professor! Understand? I'm engaged!”

Professor Toti staggers, as if hit on the head with a club; he raises his hands; stammers:

“You? En... engaged?”

“Yes, sir,” says Giacomino. “And so, enough ... enough for always! You'll understand that I can no longer ... see you here ... ”