Nun (9781609459109) by Simonetta Agnello Hornby Read Free Book Online Page A

has offended the house of Padellani by turning up its nose at a daughter-in-law of such nobility!” Then she added, imitating her husband’s Neapolitan accent: “‘
O megli’e Napule
!’—The finest in Naples!”
    She’d made up her mind: in the unlikely case that the field marshal gave the hand of Agatuzza in marriage, her blessed daughter would be an unwelcome addition to her husband’s household, subjected to who could imagine what humiliations at the hands of that mother-in-law, as the notary himself had described her! As for her, she would never consent to such a marriage. Still, the final word remained with the field marshal. From her tone of voice, it was unmistakable that a ”yes” was at best a remote possibility.
    After lunch, the extended family went downstairs for a walk in the garden. Agata’s father leaned on his daughter’s arm: that morning, he’d been indisposed with an acid stomach, but glutton that he was, he’d eaten heavily and drunk liberally when Amalia presented him with the usual lavish spread. Agata didn’t dare to ask a thing, but even if she had, she’d have been disappointed: the field marshal knew nothing of Senator Lepre’s visit; his wife had decided that there was no reason to poison the perfectly nice day that her husband hoped to spend with his Calabrian grandson.
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    Night had fallen. Agata tossed and turned in her bed. She couldn’t sleep a wink. What had become of Giacomo? The day’s anxiety had been transformed into a serpent fastened to her breast, eating her alive, as in the image of King Palermo that was so dear to her mother. She heard a noise outside, somewhere deep underground. She lifted her head: Carmela was sleeping peacefully in the next bed, her nightcap askew across her forehead. The dogs were howling, and one in particular was emitting cries that were almost human. Agata tried to sit up, but the room jerked, knocking her back onto the pillows. In the silvery moonlight, the central chandelier was swaying: an earthquake. Doors and windows were creaking, servant bells were chiming. The first person to enter their bedroom was their mother: she ordered them to throw on some clothes and hurry out to safety in the garden, around the fountain. Then came a second shock, stronger than the first. It was followed by a third, a deep roar. They accompanied by rushed outside, young and old, men and women, masters and servants, some in nightshirts, others half dressed. The birds, abandoning nests, branches, and roofs, were soaring in vast looping circles, never daring to set down.
    The villa was shaking. One tremor came hard on the heels of the last; they waited for them, speechless and shivering in the biting damp of the starry night. Suddenly, Agata’s jealousy dwindled and vanished. Swept away by the love she felt for her Giacomo, she only wanted him to be safe and happy, whoever that might be with, even if it was the other woman. She prayed to God on his behalf, with all her heart. Her prayer drained her of anxiety; it gave her strength and peace of mind. Agata stared up, as if in a state of ecstasy, at the dark sky crisscrossed by the flight of frenzied birds. The shocks become less frequent.
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    The earthquake was stronger in Messina. A number of houses that were already crumbling had collapsed entirely, while many others had been damaged, but not severely—nothing comparable to the terrible earthquake of 1783, the memory of which had been impressed in the minds of the people of Messina by the stories of the survivors and the buildings that were leveled. The Padellanis yielded to Amalia’s pleas: they would stay a few more days at the villa. Annuzza had been sent down into the city with a carriage to fetch clean linen and medicine for the field marshal’s catarrh: he’d caught cold during the night they’d spent outdoors, and he now had a fever. She came back with a note for