 Chapter 8 of The House by the Meddler Tree by Giovanni Verga Translated by Mary A. Craig This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Tom Denham. Luca, poor fellow, was neither better off nor worse. He did his duty abroad as he had done it at home, and was content. He did not often write, certainly the stamps cost twenty centimes each, nor had he sent his portrait, because from his boyhood he had been teased about his great asses ears. Instead, he every now and then sent a five-franc note, which he made out to earn by doing odd jobs for the officers. The grandfather had said, Menna must be married first. It was not yet spoken of, but thought of always, and now that the money was accumulating in the drawer, he considered that the anchovies would cover the debt to Gusfut, and the house remained free for the dowry of the girl. Wherefore he was seen sometimes talking quietly with Padron Fortunato on the beach, while waiting for the bark, or sitting in the sun on the church steps when no one else was there. Padron Fortunato had no wish to go back from his word if the girl had her dowry, the more that his son always was causing him anxiety by running after a lot of penniless girls, like as stupid as he was. The man has his word, and the bull has his horns, he took to repeating again. Menna had often a heavy heart as she sat at the loom, for girls have quick senses. And now that her grandfather was always with Padron Fortunato, and she so often heard the name Chipola mentioned in the house, it seemed as if she had the same sight for ever before her, as if that blessed Christian cousin Alfio were nailed to the beams of the loom, like the pictures of the saints. One evening she waited until it was quite late to see cousin Alfio come back with his donkey cart, holding her hands under her apron, for it was cold, and all the doors were shut, and not a soul was to be seen in the little street, so she said good evening to him from the door. Will you go down to Bicocca at the first of the month? She asked him finally. Not yet, there are still a hundred loads of wine for Santuzza, afterwards God will provide. She knew not what to say while cousin Alfio came and went in the little court, unharnessing the donkey and hanging the harness on the knobs, carrying the lantern to and fro. If you go to Bicocca, we shall not see each other any more, said Menor, whose voice was quite faint. But why are you going away too? The poor child could not speak at all at first, though it was dark, and no one could see her face. From time to time the neighbours could be heard speaking behind the closed doors, or children crying, or the noise of the platters in some house where supper was late, so that no one could hear them talking. Now we have half the money we want for old goose-foot, and at the salting of the anchovies we can pay the other half. Alfio, at this, left the donkey in the court and came out into the street. Then you will be married after Easter? I told you so, continued Alfio, I saw Padron and Tony talking with Padron Cipolla. It will be as God wills, said Menor, I don't care to be married if I might only stay on here. What a fine thing it is for Cipolla, went on Mosca, to be rich enough to marry whenever he pleases, and take the wife he prefers, and live where he likes. Good night, Cosnalfio, said Menor, after stopping a while to gaze at the lantern hanging on the wicket, and the donkey cropping the nettles on the wall. Cosnalfio also said good night, and went back to put the donkey in his stall. Among those who were looking after Barbara was Vanny Pizzotti, when he used to go to the house to shave Master Bastiano, who had the sciatica, and also Don Michelli, who founded a bore to do nothing but march around with the pistols in his belt when he wasn't behind Santuzza's counter, and went ogling the pretty girls to pass away the time. Barbara at first returned his glances, but afterwards, when her mother told her that those fellows were only loafing around to no purpose, a lot of spies, all foreigners were only fit to be flogged, she slammed the window in his face. Mustache gold-boarded carpent all, and Don Michelli was furious, and for spite took to walking up and down the street, twisting his mustache with his cap over his ear. On Sunday, however, he put on his plumed hat, and went into Vanny Pizzotti's shop to make eyes at her, as she went by to mass with her mother. Don Silvestro also took to going to be shaved among those who waited for the mass, and to warming himself at the brazier for the hot water, exchanging saucy speeches with the rest. "'That Barbara begins to hang on Antoni Malavoglia's hands,' he said. "'What will you bet? He doesn't marry her after all.' "'There he stands, waiting with his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to come to him.' At last one day, Don Michelli said, "'If it were not for the cap with the border, I'd make that ugly scump Antoni Malavoglia hold the candle for me, that I would.' Don Silvestro lost no time in telling Antoni everything, and how Don Michelli, the brigadier who was not the man to let the fly's perch on his nose, had a grudge against him. Gusfut, when he went to be shaved and heard that Don Michelli would have given him something, to get rid of Antoni Malavoglia, ruffled himself up like a turkey-cock, because he was so much thought of in the place. Vani Pizzotti went on, saying, "'Don Michelli would give anything to have the Malavoglia in his hands as you have. Oh, why did you let that row with Antoni pass off so easily?' Gusfut shrugged his shoulders, and went on warming his hands over the brazier. Don Silvestro began to laugh and answered for him. Master Vani would like to pull the chestnuts out of the fire with Gusfut's paws. We know already that Gossip Venera will have nothing to say to foreigners or to gold-bordered caps, so if Antoni Malavoglia were out of the way he would be the only one left for the girl. Vani Pizzotti said nothing, but he lay awake the whole night thinking of it. "'It wouldn't be such a bad thing,' he thought to himself. "'Everything depends upon getting hold of Gusfut some day when he is in the right sort of humour. It came that day, once when Racco Spatto was nowhere to be seen.' Vani Pizzotti had come in two or three times rather late to look for him, with a pale face and starting eyes, too, and the customs guard had been seen rushing here and there, full of business, smelling about like hunting dogs with noses to the ground, and Don Michelli along with them, with pistols in belt and trousers thrust into his boots. You might do a good service to Don Michelli if you were taking Antoni Malavoglia out of his way,' said Vani to Pappatino, as he stood in the darkest corner of the shop buying a cigar. You do him a famous service, and make a friend of him for life.' "'Ade se,' sighed Gusfut. He had no breath that evening, and said nothing more. In the night were heard shots over towards the cliffs called the Rotolo, and along all the beach, as if some one were hunting quail.' "'Quail, indeed,' murmured the fisher-focus, they started up in bed to listen. Two-legged quail, those are, quail that bring sugar and coffee and silk handkerchiefs that pay no duty. That's why Don Michelli had his boots in his trousers and his pistols in his belt.' Gusfut went as usual to the barber's shop for his morning-glass before the lantern over the door had been put out. But that next morning he had the face of a dog that has upset the kettle. He made none of his usual jokes, and asked this one and that one why there had been such a devil of a row in the night, and what had become of Rocco Spattu and Cinchialenta, and doffed his cap to Don Michelli, and insisted on paying for his morning draught. "'Gusfut said to him, Take a glass of spirits, Don Michelli, it will do your stomach good after your wakeful night, blood of Judas,' exclaimed Gusfut, striking his fist on the counter and feigning to fly into a real rage. "'It isn't to Rome that I'll send that young ruffian Antoni to do penance.' "'Bravo!' assented Vanny. "'I wouldn't have passed it over, I assure you, nor you, Don Michelli, I'll swear.' Don Michelli approved with a growl. "'I'll take care that Antoni and all his relations are put in their places.' Gusfut went on threatening, I'm not going to have the whole place laughing at me. You may rest assured of that much, Don Michelli.' And off he went, limping and blaspheming as if he were in a fearful rage, while all the time he was saying to himself, One must keep friends with all these spies, and ruminating on how he was to make a friend of Santuzza as well, going to the inn, where he heard from Uncle Santoro that neither Rocco Spattu nor Chinky Alente had been there. Then went on to Cousin Anna's, who, poor thing, hadn't slept a wink, and stood at her door looking out pale as a ghost. There he met the wasp, who had come to see if Cousin Anna had by chance a little leaven. "'Today I must speak with your Uncle Dumbbell about the affair you know of,' said Gusfut. Dumbbell was willing enough to speak of that affair which never came to an end, and when things grow too long they turn into snakes. Padran Antoni was always preaching that the Malavolia were honest people, and that he would pay him, but he, Dumbbell, would like to know where the money was to come from. In the place everybody knew to assent him what everybody owned, and those honest people the Malavolia, even if they sold their souls to the Turks, couldn't manage to pay even so much as the half by Easter, and to get possession of the house one must have stamped paper, and all sorts of expenses, that he knew very well. And all this time Padran Antoni was talking of marrying his granddaughter. He'd seen him with Padran Cipolla, and Uncle Santoro had seen him, and Gusfut had seen him, too, and he, too, went on doing the go-between for Vespa and that lazy hound Alfio Mosca, that wanted to get hold of her field. But I tell you that I do nothing of the sort, shouted Gusfut in his ear. Your niece is overhead and ears in love with him, and is always at his heels. I can't shut the door in her face out of respect for you, when she comes to have a chat with my wife, for after all she is your niece and your own blood. But, in fact, pretty sort of respect, you'll chouse me out of the field with your respect. Among them they'll chouse you out of it. If the Malavolia girl marries Brassi Cipolla, Mosca will be left out in the cold and will take to Vespa and her field for consolation. The devil may have her for what I care, called out Old Crucifix, deafened by Uncle Tino's clatter. I don't care what becomes of her, a godless cat that she is. I want my property, I made it of my blood, and one would think I had stolen it, that everyone takes it from me. Alfio Mosca, Vespa, the Malavolia, I'll go to law and take the house. You are the master, you can go to law if you like. No, I'll wait until Easter, the man has his word and the bull has his horns, but I mean to be paid up to the last centime and I won't listen to anybody for the least delay. In fact, Easter was drawing near. The hills began once more to clothe themselves with green, and the Indian figs were in flower. The girls had sowed basil outside the windows, and the white butterflies came to flutter about it. Even the pale plants on the seashore were starred with white flowers. In the morning the red and yellow tiles smoked in the rising sun, and the sparrows twitted there until the sun had set. And the house by the medlar tree, too, had a sort of festive air. The court was swept, the nets and cords were hung neatly against the wall or spread on drying poles. The garden was full of cabbages and lettuce, and the rooms were open and full of sunshine, that looked as if it, too, were content. All things proclaimed that Easter was at hand. The elders sat on the steps in the evening, and the girls sang at the washing-tank. The wagons began again to pass the high road by night, and at dusk there began once more the sound of voices in conversation in the little street. "'Cos men are—is going to be married,' they said, her mother is busy with her outfit already. Time had passed, and all things pass away with time, sad things as well as sweet. Now cousin Marutza was always busy cutting and sewing all sorts of household furnishing, and men are never asked for whom they were intended. And one evening Brassi Cipolla was brought into the house, with master Fortunato, his father, and all his relations. "'Here is cousin Cipolla, who has come to make you a visit,' said Padron and Tony, introducing him into the house, as if no one knew anything about it beforehand, while all the time wine and roasted peas were made ready in the kitchen, and the women and the girls had on their best clothes. That evening men are looked exactly like St. Agatha, with her new dress and her black kerchief on her head, so that Brassi never took his eyes off her, but sat staring at her all the evening like a basilisk, sitting on the edge of his chair with his hands between his knees, rubbing them now and then on the sly for very pleasure. "'He has come with his son Brassi, who is quite a big fellow now,' continued Padron and Tony. "'Yes, the children grow and shoulder us into the ground,' answered Padron Fortunato. "'Now you'll take a glass of our wine, of the best we have, and a few dried peas which my daughter has toasted. If we had only known you were coming, we might have had something ready better worth your acceptance.' "'We happened to be passing by,' said Padron Cipolla, and we said, "'Let's go and make a visit to Cousin Marutza.' Brassi filled his pockets with dried peas, always looking at the girl, and then the boys cleared the dish in spite of all nunciata, with the baby in her arms, could do to hinder them, talking all the while amongst themselves softly as if they had been in church. The elders by this time were in conversation together under the medlar, all the gossips clustering around full of praises of the girl, how she was such a good manager, and kept the house neat as a new pin, the girl as she is trained, and the flax as it is spun,' they quoted. "'Your granddaughter is also grown up,' said Padron Fortunato. It is time she was married.' "'If the Lord sends her a good husband, I ask nothing better,' replied Padron Antony. "'The husband and the bishop are chosen by heaven,' added Cousin Lalonga. "'Men are sat by the young man, as is the custom, but she never lifted her eyes from her apron, and Brasi complained to his father when they came away that she had not offered him the plate with the dried peas. "'Did you want more?' interrupted Padron Fortunato when they were out of hearing. "'Nobody could hear anything for your munching like a mule at a sack of barley. "'Look, if you haven't upset the wine on your new trousers, "'lout, you've spoilt a new suit for me!' Padron Antony, in high spirits, rubbing his hands, said to his daughter-in-law, "'I can hardly believe that everything is so happily settled. Men are well want for nothing, and now we can put in order all our other little matters. And you may say the old daddy was right when he said, "'Tears and smiles come close together.' That Saturday, towards evening, Nunciata came in to get a handful of beans for the children, and said, "'Cause Nalfio goes away to-morrow. He's packing up all his things.'" Men turned white and stopped weaving. In Nalfio's house there was a light. Everything was topsy-turvy. He came a few minutes after knocking at the door also with a very white face, and tying and untying the knot of the lash of his whip, which he held in his hand. "'I've come to say good-bye to you all, cousin Maruzza, Padron Antony, the boys, and you too, cousin Mena. The wine from Acicatena is finished. Now Santuzza will get it from Master Filippo. I'm going to Bicocca, where there is work to be got for my donkey.'" Mena said nothing. Only the mother spoke and replied to him, "'Won't you wait for Padron Antony? He will be glad to see you before you go.'" So Cusna Nalfio sat down on the edge of a chair, whipped in hand, and looked about the room in the opposite direction to that where Mena was. "'Now, when are you coming back?' said La Longa. "'Who knows when I shall come back? I shall go when my donkey carries me. As long as there is work I shall stay, but I should rather come back here if I could manage to live anyhow. "'Take care of your health, Cusna Nalfio. I've been told that people die like flies of the malaria down there at the Bicocca.'" Nalfio shrugged his shoulders, saying there was nothing to be done. "'I would much rather not have gone away from here.'" He went on looking at the candle. "'And you say nothing to me, Cusna Mena?' The girl opened her mouth two or three times as if to speak. But no words came. Her heart beat too fast. "'And you, too, will leave the neighborhood when you are married,' added Nalfio. "'The world is like an inn with people coming and going. By and by everybody will have changed places, and nothing would be the same as it was.' So, saying, he rubbed his hands and smiled, but with lips only, not in his heart. "'Girls,' said the longer, go where heaven appoints them to go. When they are young they are gay and have no care. When they go into the world they meet with grief and trouble.' Nalfio, after Padron and Tony and the boys had come back, and he had wished them also good-bye, could not make up his mind to go. But stood on the threshold with his whip under his arm, shaking hands now with one, now with another, with Cosmerutza as well as the rest, and went on repeating, as people do when they are going for a long journey and are not sure of ever coming back. "'Pardon me if I have been wanting in any way towards any of you.' The only one who did not take his hand was Sant'Agata, who stayed in the dark corner by the loom. But, of course, that is the proper way for girls to behave on such occasions. It was a fine spring evening, and the moon shone over the court and the street, over the people sitting before the doors, and the girls walking up and down, singing, with their arms around each other's waists. Mena came out too with Nunziata. She felt as if she should suffocate in the house. "'Now we shan't see Cousin Alfio's lamp any more in the evenings,' said Nunziata, and the house will be shut up. Cousin Alfio had loaded his cart with all the wares he was taking away with him, and now he was tying up the straw which remained in the manger into a bundle, while the pot bubbled on the fire with the beans for his supper. "'Shall you be gone before morning, Cousin Alfio?' asked Nunziata, from the door of the little court. "'Yes, I have a long way to go, and this poor beast has a heavy load. I must let him have a rest in the daytime.' Mena said nothing, but leaned on the gate post, looking at the loaded cart, the empty house, the bed half taken down, and the pot boiling for the last time on the hearth. "'Are you there, too, Cousin Mena?' cried Alfio as soon as he saw her, and left off what he was engaged upon. She nodded her head, and Nunziata ran like a good housekeeper as she was to skim off the pot, which was boiling over. "'I am glad you are here. Now I can say goodbye to you, too.' "'I came here to see you once more,' she said, with tears in her voice, "'why do you go down there where there is the malaria?' Alfio began to laugh from the lips outward, as he did when he went to say goodbye to them all. "'A pretty question. Why do I go there? And why do you marry Brasi Cipolla? One does what one can, Cousin Mena. If I could have done as I wished to do, you know what I would have done.' She gazed and gazed at him, with eyes shining with tears. "'I should have stayed here where the very walls are my friends, and where I can go about in the night to stable my donkey, even in the dark. And I should have married you, Cousin Mena. I have held you in my heart this long while, and I shall carry you with me to the Bicocca, and wherever I may go. But this is all useless talk, and one must do what one can. My donkey, too, must go where I drive him.' "'Now, farewell,' said Mena, at last, "'I, too, have something like a thorn here within me. And now, when I see this window always shut, it will seem as if my heart was shut, too, as if it was shut inside the window, heavy as an oaken door. But so God wills, now I wish you well, and I must go.' The poor child wept silently, hiding her eyes with her hand, and went away with Nunciata to sit and cry under the medlar tree in the moonlight. End of Chapter 8 Recording by Tom Denham Chapter 9 Part 1 Of the House by the Medlar Tree by Giovanni Verga Translated by Mary A. Craig This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Denham Neither the Malavolia nor anyone else in the town had any idea what Goosefoot and Uncle Crucifix were hatching together. On Easter Day, Padron and Tony took out the hundred lira which were amassed in the bureau drawer, and put on his Sunday jacket, to carry them to Uncle Crucifix. "'What? Is it all here?' said he. "'It can't yet be all, Uncle Crucifix. You know how much it costs us to get together a hundred lira, but better half a loaf than no bread, and paying on account is no bad pay. Now the summer is coming, and with God's help we'll pay off the whole.' "'Why do you bring it to me? You know I have nothing more to do with it. It is Cousin Goosefoot's affair.' "'It is all the same. It seems always to me, as if I owed it to you whenever I see you. Cousin Tino won't say no. If you ask him to wait until the Madonna del Ognino, this won't even pay the expenses,' said old Dumbbell, passing the money through his fingers. "'Go to him yourself, and ask him if he'll wait for you. I have nothing more to do with it.' Goosefoot began to swear and to fling his cap on the ground after his usual fashion, vowing that he had not bread to eat, and that he could not wait, even until ascension tied. "'Listen, Cousin Tino,' said Padron Antoni, with clasped hands, as if he were praying to our Lord God. If you don't give me at least until Saint Giovanni, now that I have to marry my granddaughter, it would be better that you should stab me with a knife and be done with it. "'By the holy devil,' cried Uncle Tino, "'you make me do more than I can manage. Cursed be the day and the hour in which I mix myself up in this confounded business.' And off he went, tearing at his old cap. Padron Antoni went home, still pale from the encounter, and said to his daughter-in-law, "'I've got off this time, but I had to beg him as if I had been praying to God.' And the poor old fellow still trembled. But he was glad that nothing had come to Padron Cipolla's ears, and that the marriage was not likely to be broken off. On the evening of the ascension, while the boys were still dancing round the post with the bonfire, the gossips were collected around the Malavoglia's balcony, and Cousin Venera Zupida was with them to listen to what was said and to give her opinion like the rest. Now as Padron Antoni was marrying his granddaughter, and the providenza was on her legs once more, everybody was ready to put a good face on it with the Malavoglia, for nobody knew anything of what Goosefoot had in his head to do, not even Cousin Grace, his wife, who went on talking with Cousin Maruzza, just as if her husband had nothing on his mind. Antoni went every evening to have a chat with Barbara, and had confided to her that his grandfather had said, first we must marry Mena. And I come next, concluded Antoni. After this Barbara had given to Mena the pot of basil, all adorned with carnations, and tied up with a fine red ribbon, which was the sign of particular friendship between girls, and everybody made a great deal of Sant'Agata, even her mother had taken off her black kerchief, because it is unlucky to wear mourning in the house where there is a bride, and had written to Luca to give him notice that Mena was going to be married. She alone poor girl seemed anything but gay, and everything looked black to her, though the fields were covered with stars of silver and of gold, and the girls wove garlands for ascension, and she herself went up and down the stairs helping her mother to hang the garlands over the door and the windows. While all the doors were hung with flowers, only that of Cousin Alfio black and twisted or eye was always shut, and no one came to hang the flowers there for the ascension. That coquette Sant'Agata, Vespa went about saying in her furious way, she managed at last to send that poor Alfio Mosca out of the place. Meanwhile they had made a new gown for Sant'Agata, and were only waiting until St John's Day to take the silver dagger out of her braids of hair and part it over her forehead, before she went to church so that everyone who saw her past said, Lucky girl! Padron Cipolla at this time sat for whole evenings together with Padron and Tony on the church steps, talking of the wondrous doings of the Providenza. Brasi was always hanging about the street near the Malavolia with his new clothes on, and soon after it was known all over the place that on that Sunday coming Cousin Grace Goosefoot was going herself to part the girl's hair and to take out the silver dagger from her braids, because Brasi Cipolla had lost his mother, and the Malavolia had asked Cousin Grace on purpose to please her husband, and they had asked also Cousin Crucifix and all the neighborhood and all their relations and friends without exception. Cousin Venor at Las Upeda made no end of a row because she hadn't been asked to dress the bride's hair, she who was going to be a connection of the Malavolia, and her girl had a sweet basil friendship with men, so much so that she had made up a new jacket for Barbara in a hurry, not expecting such an affront. And Tony prayed and begged in vain that they would not take it up like that, but pass it over. Cousin Venor, with her hair ready dressed, but with her hands covered with flour, for she had begun to make the bread, so that she didn't mean to go to the party at the Malavolia, replied, You wanted Cousin Goosefoot's wife, keep her. Or her, or me, we can't stay together. The Malavolia know very well that they have chosen Madame Grace only because of the money they owe her husband. Now they are hand and glove with old Tino since Padron Cipolla made him make it up with Padron and Tony's and Tony after that affair of the fight. They would lick his boots because they owe him that money on the house, she went on scolding. They owe my husband fifty lira too for the Providenza. Tomorrow I mean to make them pay it. Do let them alone, mother, supplicated Barbara. But she was in the pouts too, because she couldn't wear her new jacket, and she was almost sorry she had spent the money for the basil plant for Mena. And Tony, who had come to take her home with him, had to go off alone, quite chap fallen, looking as if his new coat were too big for him. Mother and daughter stood looking out of the court, where they were putting the bread in the oven, listening to the noise going on at the house by the medlar, for the talking and laughing could be heard quite plainly where they were, putting them in a greater rage than ever. The house was full of people. Justices had been at the time of Bastionato's death. And Mena, without her dagger, and with her hair parted in the middle, looked quite differently, so that the gossips all crowded around her and made such a chattering, you couldn't have heard a cannonade. Goose-foot went on talking nonsense to the women, and made them laugh as if he had been tickling them, while all the time the lawyer was getting ready the papers, although Uncle Crucifix had said that there was time enough yet to send the summons. Even Padron Cipolla permitted himself a joke or two, at which no one laughed but his son Brasi, and everybody spoke at once, while the boys struggled on the floor for beans and chestnuts. Even La Longa, poor woman, had forgotten her troubles for the moment, so pleased was she, and Padron and Tony sat on the low wall, nodding his head in assent to everybody, and smiling to himself. Take care that this time you don't give your drink to your trousers, which are not thirsty, said Padron Cipolla to his son. The party is given for cousin Mena, said Nunziata, but she doesn't seem to enjoy it as the others do. At which cousin Anna made as if she had dropped the flask which she had in her hand, in which there was still nearly half a pint of wine, and called out, Here's luck, here's luck, where there are shards there is feasting, and spill wine is of good omen. A little more, and I should have had it on my new trousers this time too, growled Brasi, who, since his misfortune to his new clothes, had become very cautious. Goose-foot sat astride of the wall, with the glass between his legs. It seemed to him, as if he were already the master, because of that summons he meant to send, and called out, Today there's nobody at the tavern, not even a rock or spatoo. Today all the fun's here, the same as if we were at Sant Tutsas. From the wall where he sat, Goose-foot could see a group of people who stood talking together by the fountain, with faces as serious as if the world were coming to an end. At the druggist's shop, there were the usual idlers with the journal, talking and shaking their fists in each other's faces, as if they were coming to blows the next minute, while Don Giamaria laughed, and took snuff with the satisfaction visible even at that distance. Why didn't Don Silvestro and the vicar come? asked Goose-foot. I told them to, but they appeared to have something particular to do, answered Padron and Tony. They're over there at the shop, and there's a fuss as if the man with the numbers of the lottery had come. What did Goose-can have happened? An old woman rushed across the piazza, screaming and tearing her hair as if at some dreadful news, and before Pizzotti's shop there was a crowd as thick as a, if an ass had tumbled under his load there, and even the children stood outside listening open-mouthed, not daring to go nearer. For my part I shall go and see what it is, said Goose-foot, coming slowly down off the wall, in the group. Instead of a fallen ass, there were two soldiers of the Marine Corps, with sacks on their shoulders, and their heads bound up, going home on leave, who had stopped on their way at the barbers to get a glass of bitters. They were telling how there had been a great battle at sea, and how ships as big as all Architretta, full as they could hold of soldiers, had gone down just as they were, so that their tales sounded like those of the men who go about recounting the adventures of Orlando and the paladins of France on the marina at Catania, and the people stood as thick as flies in the sun to listen to them. Maruzza la Longa's son was also on board the red detaillea, observed Don Silvestro, who had also drawn nearer to listen with the rest. Now I'll go and tell that to my wife, cried Master Colla Zoupidou. Then she'll be sure to go to Cousin Maruzza. I don't like coolnesses between friends and neighbors. But meanwhile the poor Longa knew nothing about it, and was laughing and amusing herself among her relations and friends. The soldier seemed never tired of talking, and gesticulated with his arms like a preacher. Yes, there were Sicilians, there were men from every place you can think of, but mind you, when the calls piped to the batteries, one minds neither north nor south, and the guns all talk the same language. Brave fellows all, and with strong hearts under their shirts. I can tell you, when one has seen what I have seen with these eyes, how those boys stood up to their duty by our lady, one feels that one has a right to cock one's heart. The youth's eyes were wet, but he said it was only because the bitters were so strong. It seems, to me, those fellows are all mad, said Padron Chipola, blowing his nose with great deliberation. Would you go and get yourself killed just because the king said to you, go and be killed for my sake? All the evening there was talking and laughing and drinking in the Malavoglia's court in the bright moonlight. And when nearly everybody was tired, and they sat chewing roasted beans with their backs against the wall, some of them singing softly among themselves. They began talking about the story that the two soldiers on leave had been telling. Padron Fortunato had gone away early, taking with him his son in his new clothes. Those poor Malavoglia, said he, meeting Dumbell in the piazza, God have mercy on them! It seems as if they will be witched. They have nothing but ill luck. Uncle Crucifix scratched his head in silence. It was no affair of his any more, because Foot had taken charge of it. But he was sorry for them, really he was, in earnest. The day after, the rumor began to spread that there had been a great battle at sea, over towards Trieste, between our ships and those of the enemy. Nobody knew how many there were, and many people had been killed. Some told the story in one way, some in another, in pieces as it were, and broken phrases. The neighbors came, with hands under their aprons, to ask Cosmaruzza whether that were not where Luca was, and looked sadly at her as they did so. The poor woman began to stand at the door, as they do when a misfortune happens, turning her head this way and that, or looking down the road towards the turn, as if she expected her father-in-law and the boys back from the sea before the usual time. Then the neighbors would ask her if she had had a letter from Luca lately, or how long it had been since he had written. In truth she had not thought about the letter, but now she could not sleep nor close her eyes the whole night, thinking always of the sea over towards Trieste, where that dreadful thing had happened. And she saw her son always before her, pale, immovable, with sad, shining eyes, and it seemed as if he nodded his head at her, as he had done when he left her to go for a soldier. And thinking of him, she felt as if she had a burning thirst herself, and a burning heat inside that was past description. Among all the stories that were always going in the village she remembered, one of some sailors that had been picked up after many hours just in time to save them from being devoured by the sharks, and how in the midst of all that water they were dying of thirst. And as she thought of how they were dying of thirst in the midst of all that water, she could not help getting up to drink out of the pitcher, and lay in the dark with wide open eyes, seeing always that mournful vision. As days went on, however, there was no more talk of what had happened. But as La Longa had no letter, she began to be unable either to work or to stay still. And she was always wandering from house to house, as if so she hoped to hear of something to ease her mind. "'Did you ever see anything so like a cat who has lost a kitten?' asked the neighbours of each other. And Padron and Tony did not go to sea, and followed his daughter in low about as if he had been a dog. Someone said to him, go to Catania, that is a big place, they'll be able to tell you something there. In that big place, the poor old man felt more lost than he ever did out at sea by night, when he didn't know which way to point his rudder. At last someone was charitable enough to tell him to go to the captain of the port, who would be certain to know all about it. There, after sending them from pilot to Herod and back again, he began to turn over certain big books, and run down the lists of the dead with his finger. When he came to one name, La Longa, who had scarcely heard what went on, so loudly did her ears ring, and was listening as white as the sheet of paper, slipped silently down on the floor, as if she had been dead. "'It was more than forty days ago,' said the clerk, shutting up the list, it was at Lyssa. "'Had not you heard of it yet?' They brought La Longa home in a cart, and she was ill for several days. Henceforward she was given to a great devotion to the mother of Soros, who is on the altar of the little chapel, and it seemed to her, as if the long corpse stretched on the mother's knees, with blue ribs and bleeding side, was her looker's own portrait, and in her own heart she felt the points of the Madonna's seven sharp swords. Every evening the devotees, when they came to church for the benediction, and Don Cirino, when he went about, shaking his keys before shutting up for the night, found her there in the same place, with her face bent down upon her knees, and they called her, too, the mother of Soros. "'She is right,' they said in the village. Looker would have been back before Long, and there would have been the thirty sooths a day more to the good for the family. To the sinking ship all winds blow contrary. "'Have you seen Padron and Tony?' added Gusfoot, since his grandson's death, he looks just like an old owl. The house by the medlar is full of cracks and leaks, and everyone who wants to save his money had better look out for himself. La Zoupida was always as cross as a fury, and went on muttering, that now the whole family would be left on Antoni's hands. This time any girl might think twice about marrying him. "'When Mena is married,' replied Antoni, "'Grand-papa, well let us have the room upstairs.' "'I'm not accustomed to living a room upstairs like the pigeons,' snapped out Barbara, so savagely that her own father said to Antoni, looking about as he walked with him up the lane, "'Barbara is growing just like her mother. If you don't get the better of her, now you lead just such a life as I do.' The end was that Gusfoot swore his usual oath by the big holy devil that this time he would be paid. Midsummer was come, and the Malavolia were once more talking of paying on account because they had not got together the whole sum, and hoped to pick it up at the olive harvest. He had taken those pens out of his own mouth, and hadn't bred to eat before God he hadn't. He couldn't live upon air until the olive harvest. "'I'm sorry, Padran,' Antoni said, "'but what will you have? I must think of my own interest first, even since Joseph shaved himself first and then the rest. It will soon be a year that it has been going on,' added Uncle Crucifix, when he was growling with Uncle Tino alone, and not one cent name of interest have I touched. Those two hundred lira will hardly cover the expenses. You'll see that at the time of olives they'll put you off till Christmas, and then till Easter again. That's the way people are ruined. But I have made my money by the sweat of my brow. Now one of them is in paradise, the other wants to marry Lazupida, they'll never be able to get on with that patched up old boat, and they are trying to marry the girl. They never think of anything but marrying those people, they have a madness for it like my niece Vespa. Now when Mena is married, you'll see that Moscow come back and carry her off with her field. He wound up by scolding about the lawyer who took such a time about the papers before he sent in the summons. Badron and Tony will have been there to tell him to wait, suggested Gustfood, with an ounce of pitch one can buy ten such lawyers as that. This time he had quarrelled seriously with the Malavolia, because Lazupida had taken his wife's clothes out of the bottom of the tank, and had put hers in their place. Such a mean thing as that, he could not bear. Lazupida wouldn't have thought of it if she hadn't got that pumpkin head of Tony Malavolia behind her, a bully that he was, a good for nothing lot they were the Malavolia, and he didn't want to see any more of them swearing and blaspheming as his won't was. The stamped paper began to rain in on them, and Gustfood declared that the lawyer couldn't have been content with the bribe Badron and Tony had given him to let them alone, and that proved what a miser he was, and how much he was to be trusted when he promised to pay what he owed people. Badron and Tony went back to the town clock and to the lawyer Scipioni, but he laughed in his face and told him that he was a fool for his pains, that he should never have let his daughter-in-law give in to it, and as he had made his bed, so he must lie down. Woe to the fallen man who asks for help! Listen to me, suggested Don Silvestro, you'd better let them have the house, if not they'll take the Providenza and everything else, even to the hair off your head, and you lose all your time besides running backward and forward to the lawyer? If you give up the house quietly, said Gustfood to the old man, we leave you the Providenza, and you'll be able to earn your bread and will remain master of your ship, and not be troubled with any more stamped paper. After all, Cosentino wasn't such a bad fellow, he went on talking to Padron and Tony, as if it hadn't been his affair at all, passing his arm over his shoulder and saying to him, pardon me, brother, I am more sorry than you are. It goes to my heart to turn you out of your house, but what can I do? I'm only a poor devil, I'm not rich like Uncle Crucifix. If those five hundred lira hadn't come actually out of my very mouth, I would never have troubled you about them upon my word I wouldn't. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Tom Denham. The poor old man hadn't the courage to tell his daughter-in-law that she must go quietly out of the house by the meddler tree. After so many years that they had been there, it was like going into banishment, or like those who had gone away meaning to come back, and had come back no more. And there was Luca's bed there, and the nail where Bastionazzo's hijack had used to hang. But at last the time came that they had to move, with all those poor sticks of furniture, and take them out of their old places where each left a mark on the wall where it had stood, and the house without them looked strange and unlike itself. They carried their things out by night into the Sexton's cottage, which they had hired, as if everybody in the place didn't know that now the house belonged no more to them, but to Goose-foot, and that they had to move away from it. But at all events no one saw them carrying their things from one house to the other. Every time the old man pulled out a nail or moved a cupboard from the corner where it was used to stand, he shook his poor old head. Then the others, when all was done, sat down upon a heap of straw in the middle of the room to rest, and looked about here and there to see if anything had been forgotten. But the grandfather could not stay inside, and went out into the court in the open air. But there, too, was the scattered straw and broken crockery and coils of old rope, and in a corner the medlar tree and the vine hanging in clusters over the door. Come, boys, let's go. Sooner or later we must, and never moved. Marutza looked at the door of the court out of which Luca and Bastionazzo had gone for the last time, and the lane where she had watched her boy go off through the rain with his trousers turned up, and then thought how the oil-skin cape had hidden him from her view. Cousin Alfio Mosca's window, too, was shut close, and the vine hung over the way so that everyone who passed by plucked off its grapes. Each one had something in the house which it was specially hard to leave, and the old man in passing out laid his head softly in the dark on the old door, which Uncle Crucifix had said was in need of a good piece of wood and a handful of nails. Uncle Crucifix had come to look over the house, and goose-footed with him, and they talked loud in the empty rooms where the voices rang as if they had been in a church. Cousin Tino hadn't been able to live all that time upon air, and had sold everything to old Dumbbell to get back his money. What can I do, Cousin Malavoglia, he said, passing his arm over his shoulder? You know I'm only a poor devil, and can't spare five hundred lira. If you had been rich, I'd have sold the house to you. But Padron and Tony couldn't bear to go about the house like that, with goose-foot's arm on his shoulder. Now Uncle Crucifix was come with the carpenter and the mason, and a lot of people who ran about the place as if they had been in the public square and said, here must go bricks, here a new beam, here the floor must all be done over, as if they had been the masters. And they talked, too, of white-washing it all over, and making it look quite a different thing. Uncle Crucifix went about kicking the straw and the broken rubbish out of the way, and picking up off the floor a bit of an old hat that had belonged to Bastionazzo. He flung it out of the window into the garden, saying it was good for manure. The medlar tree rustled softly meanwhile, and the garlands of daisies now withered, that had been put up at Witsentide, still hung over the windows and the door. From this time the Malavolia never showed themselves in the street, or at church, and went all the way to Ackchicastello to the mass. And no one spoke to them any more, not even Padron Cipolla, who went about saying, Padron and Tony had no right to play me such a trick as that. That was real cheating to let his daughter-in-law give up her rights for the sake of the debt for the Lupins. Just what my wife says, added Master Zoupidou. She says even the dogs in the street wouldn't have any of the Malavolia now. All the same, that young heathen Brasi howled and swore that he wanted men. She had been promised him, and he would have her, and he stamped and stormed like a baby before a toy-shop at a fair. Do you think I stole my property, you lazy hound, that you want to fling it away with a lot of beggars? shouted his father. They even took back Brasi's new clothes, and he worked out his ill temper by chasing lizards on the down, or sitting astride of the wall by the washing-tank swearing that he wouldn't do a hand's turn. No, that he wouldn't, not if they killed him for it, now that they wouldn't give him his wife, and they had taken back even his wedding clothes. Fortunately Mena couldn't see him looking as he did now, for the Malavolia always kept the door shut down there at the Sexton's Cottage, which they had hired, in the Black Street near the Zoupidi, and if Brasi chanced to see any of them, if it were ever so far off, he ran to hide himself behind a wall, or among the prickly pairs. Mena was quite tranquil, however, there was so much to do in the new house, where they had to find places for all the old things, and where there was no longer the meddler tree, nor could one see Cousin Anna's door, or Nunciatas. Her mother watched over her, like a brooding bird, while they sat working together, and her voice was like a caress when she said to her, Give me the scissors, or hold this skein for me, so that the child felt it in her inmost heart, now that everyone turned away from them. But the girl sang like a lock, for she was but 18, and at that age, if the sun do but shine, everything seems bright, and the singing of the birds is in one's heart. Besides, she had never really cared for that person, she said to her mother in a whisper, as they bent together over the loom. Her mother had been the only one who had really understood her, and had had a kind word for her in that odd time. At least if Cousin Alfio had been there, he would not have turned his back upon them. So goes the world. Everyone must look out for himself, and so said Cousin Venera to Padron Antonis Antoni. Everyone must see to his own beard first, and then to the others. Your grandfather gives you nothing. What claim has he on you, if you marry? That means that you must set up house for yourself, and what you earn must be for your own house and your own family. Many hands are a blessing, but not all in one dish. That would be a fine thing to do, to be sure, answered Antoni, now that my relations are on the street, am I to throw them over? How is my grandfather to manage the Providenza, and to feed them all without me? Then get out of it the best way you can, exclaimed Lazupida, turning away from him to hunt over the drawers or in the kitchen, upsetting everything here and there, making believe to be ever so busy, not to have to look him in the face. I didn't steal my daughter. You can go on by yourselves, because you are young and strong and can work, and have your trade at your finger ends, all the more now that there are so few young men with this devil of a conscription sweeping off all the village every year. But if I'm to give you the dowry to spend it on your own people, that's another affair. I mean to give my daughter to one husband, not to five or six, and I don't mean she shall have two families on her shoulders. Barbara, in the other room, feigned not to hear, and went on plying her shuttle briskly all the time. But if Antoni appeared at the door, she cast down her eyes and wouldn't look at him. The poor fellow turned yellow and green and all sorts of colors, for she had caught him like a limed sparrow with those great black eyes of hers. And then she said to him, after her mother was gone, I'm sure you don't love me as much as you do your own people, and began to cry with her apron over her head. I swear, exclaimed Antoni, I wish I could go back to soldiering again, and tore his hair and thumped himself in the head, but couldn't come to any decision one way or the other like the pumpkin head that he was. Then cried the zoopida, come, come, each to his own home. And her husband went on repeating, didn't I tell you I didn't choose to have a fuss? Bube off to your work, replied she, you know nothing about it. Antoni, every time he went to the zoopida, found them in an ill humour, and Cousen Venera went on throwing in his face that time that his people had asked Guzfurt's wife to dress men as hair, and a fine hairdressing they'd made of it, licking Cousentino's boots because of that topony business of the house, and he'd taken the house all the same. Then, Cousen Venera, if you speak in this way, I suppose you mean I don't want you in my house any longer. Antoni meant to play the man, and did not show himself again for two or three days, but little Lia, who knew nothing of all this chatter, still continued to go and play in the court at Cousen Venera's, as they had taught her to do in the days when Barbara used to give her chestnuts and Indian figs for love of her brother Antoni, only now they gave her nothing. And the zoopida said to her, have you come here to look for your brother? Does your mother think we want to steal your precious brother? Things came to such a pass that La Longa and La Venera did not speak, and turned their backs upon each other if they met at church. Antoni, bewitched by Barbara's eyes, went back to stand before the windows, trying to make peace, so that Cousen Venera threatened to fling water over him one time or another, and even her daughter shrugged her shoulders at him, now that the Malavolia had neither king nor kingdom. And she said it to his face, too, to be rid of him, for he stood like a dog, or was in front of the window, and might stand in the way of a better match, too, if any one were to come that way for her. Now then, Cousen and Tony, the fish of the sea are destined for those who shall eat them. Let's make up our minds to say good-bye and have it over. You may say good-bye to it all, Cousen Barbara, but I can't. Love isn't over so easily as that with me. Try. I guess you can manage it. There's nothing like trying. I wish you all the good in the world, but leave me to look after my own affairs, for I am already twenty-two. I knew it would come to this when they took our house, and everybody turned their backs on us. Listen, Cousen Tony, my mother may come at any minute, and it won't do for her to find you here. Yes, yes, I know. Now that they've taken our house, it isn't fair. Poor Tony's heart was full. He couldn't bear to part from her like that. But she had to go to the fountain to fill her picture, and she said adieu to him, walking off quickly, swaying lightly as she went, for though they were called hobblers, because her great-grandfather had broken his leg in a collision of wagons at the fair of Treccastagne, Barbara had both her legs, and very good ones, too. Adieu, Cousen Barbara, said the poor fellow. And so he put a stone over all that had been, and went back to his oar like a gully-slave. And gully-slave's work it was, from Monday morning till Saturday night, and he was tired of wearing out his soul for nothing, for when one has nothing, what good can come of driving away from morning till night, with never a dog to be friends with one, either. And for that he had had enough of such a life. He preferred rather to do nothing at all, and stay in bed as if he were sick, as they did on board ship when the service was too hard, for the grand-papao wouldn't come to pull him and thump him like the ship's doctor. What's the matter? he asked. Nothing. Only I'm a poor miserable devil. And what can be done for you if you are a poor miserable devil? We must go on as we come into the world. He let himself be loaded down with tackle, like a beast of burden, and the whole day long never opened his mouth except to growl and to swear. On Sunday and Tony went hanging about the tavern, where people did nothing but laugh and amuse themselves, or else he sat for whole hours on the church steps, with his chin in his hands, watching the people passing by, and pondering over this hard life, where there was nothing to be got by doing anything. At least on Sunday there was something that cost nothing. The sun, the standing idol with hands in one's pockets, and then he grew tired even of thinking of his hard fate, and longing to bask again in the strange places he had seen when he was a soldier, and with the memory of which he amused himself on working days, he only cared to lie like a lizard, basking in the sun. And when the carters passed, sitting on their shafts, he muttered, they have an easy time of it driving about like that all day long, and when some poor little old woman came from the town bent down under her heavy burden, like a tired donkey, lamenting as she went, as is the manner of the old, he said to her, by way of consolation, I would be willing to take your work, my sister, after all, it is like going out for a walk. Padron and Tony would go off to old Crucifix, saying to him over and over again at least a hundred times, you know, Uncle Crucifix, if we can manage to put the money together for the house, you must sell it to us and to nobody else, for it has always belonged to the Malavolia, and his own nest every bird likes best, and I long to die in my own bed. Blessed is he who dies in the bed where he was born. Uncle Crucifix muttered something which sounded like yes, not to compromise himself, and then would go off and put a new tile or a patch of lime on the wall of the court to make an excuse for raising the price of the house. Uncle Crucifix would reassure him in this way, never fear, never fear, the house won't run away, you know, only keep an eye upon it. Everyone should keep an eye upon whatever he set store by, and once he went on, isn't your menner going to be married? She shall be married when it shall please God, replied Padron and Tony, for my part I should be glad if it were to be tomorrow. If I were you, I would give her to Alfio Mosca, he's a nice young fellow, honest and hard-working, always looking out for the wife everywhere he goes. It is the only fault he has. Now they say he's coming back to the place. He's cut out for your granddaughter. But they said he wanted to marry your niece Vespa. You too, you too! Dumbbell began to scream in his cracked voice. Who says so? That's all idle chatter. He wants to get hold of her ground, that's what he wants. A pretty thing that would be. How would you like me to sell your house to somebody else? And Gus Foote, who was always hanging about the piazza ready to put in his awe whenever he saw two people talking together, broke in with Vespa as Brasi Cipolla in her head just now, since his marriage with Sant'Agata is broken off, I saw them with my own eyes walking down the path by the stream together. Ah, nice lot, eh! screamed Uncle Crucifix quite forgetting his deafness. That witch is the devil himself. We must tell Padron Fortunato about it, that we must. Are we honest men, or are we not? If Padron Fortunato doesn't look out, that witch of a niece of mine will carry off his son before his eyes, poor old fellow. And off he ran of the street, like a madman. In less than ten minutes, Uncle Crucifix had turned the place topsy-turvy, wanted to call Don McKeeley and his guest to look up his niece. For, after all, she was his niece and belonged to him, and wasn't Don McKeeley paid to look after what belonged to honest men? Everyone laughed to see Padron Cipolla running hither and thither, panting like a dog with his tongue out, after his great loud of a son, and said it was no more than he deserved that his son should be snapped up by the wasp when he thought Victor Emmanuel's daughter hardly good enough for him, and had broken off with the Malavoglia without even saying, buy your leave. Menna had not put on mourning, however, when her marriage went off. On the contrary, she began once more to sing at her loom, and while she was helping to salt down the anchovies in the fine summer evenings, for St. Francis had sent that year such a provision as never was. A passage of anchovies, such as no one could remember in any past year, enough to enrich the whole place, the barks came in loaded with the men on board, singing and shouting and waving their caps above their heads, in sign of success to the women and children who waited for them on the shore. The buyers came from the city in crowds, on foot, on horseback, and in carts and wagons, and goose-foot hadn't even time to scratch his head. Towards sunset there was a crowd-like affair and cries and jostling and pushing so as no one ever saw the like. In the Malavoglia's court the lights were burning until midnight, as if they were a fester there. The girls sang, and the neighbours came to help their cousin Anna's daughter's and Nunciata, because everyone could earn something, and along the wall were four ranges of barrels already prepared with stones on the top of them. I wish the zoopidae were here now, exclaimed Antoni, sitting on the stones to make weight and folding his arms. Then she would see that we can manage for ourselves as good as anybody, and snap our fingers at Don Michelli and Don Silvestro. The buyers ran after Padron and Tony with money down in their hands. Goose-foot pulled him by the sleeve, saying, Now's your time, make your profit while you can. But Padron and Tony would only answer, Wait till all saints, that's the time to sell anchovies. No, I won't take earnest money, I don't mean to be tied, I know how things will go. And he thumped on the barrels with his fist, saying to his grandchildren, Here is your house and men's dowry, and the old house is ready to take you to its arms, since Francis has been merciful. I shall close my eyes in peace. At the same time they had made all their provision for the winter. Grain, beans, oil, and had given earnest to Don Filippo for a little wine for Sundays. Now there were tranquil once more. Father and daughter-in-law began once more to count the money in the stocking, and the barrels ranged against the wall of the court had made their calculations as to what more was needed for the house. Maruzza knew the money coin from coin, and said, This from the oranges and eggs, This from Alasio for work at the railroad, This menna earned at the loom, And she said too, Each has something here from his own work. Did I not tell you, said Padron and Tony, That to pull a good oar all the five fingers must help each other. Now there is but little more needed. And then he would go off into a corner with La Longa, and they would have a great confabulation, looking from time to time at St. Agata, who deserved, poor child, that they should talk of her, because she had neither word nor will of her own, and attended to her work, singing softly under her breath, like a bird on its nest before the break of morning. And only when she heard the cart's pass on the high road in the evening, she thought of Cousin Alfio Mosca's cart, that was wondering about the wide world, she knew not where, and then she stopped singing. In the whole place, nothing was seen but men carrying nets, and women sitting in their doors, pounding salt and broken bricks together, and before every door was a row of tiny barrels, so that it was a real pleasure to a Christian to sniff the precious odour as he passed, and for a mile away the breath of the gifts of the Blessed St. Francis floated on the breeze. There was nothing talked of but anchovies and brine, even in the drugstore, where all the affairs of all the world were discussed. Don Franco wanted to teach them a new way of salting down, a receipt which he had found in a book. They turned their backs on him, and left him storming like a madman. Since the world was a world, anchovies had always been cured with salt and pounded bricks. The usual cry my grandfather used to do it, the drugist went on shouting at them, you want nothing but tails to be complete asses. What is to be done with such a lot as this? And they are quite content to do with Master Croce Giofa, which means oaf, because he has always been syndic. They would be capable of saying that they didn't want a republic because they had never seen one. This speech he repeated to Don Silvestro on a certain occasion when they had a conversation without witnesses. That is to say, Don Franco talked and Don Silvestro listened in silence. He afterwards learned that Don Silvestro had broken with Betta the syndic's daughter because she insisted on being syndic herself, and her father let her wear the breeches, so that he said white today and black tomorrow. End of chapter 9 part 2, Recording by Tom Denham