The Silent Duchess by Dacia Maraini Read Free Book Online Page A

on them with her eyes shut.
    What is the little stinker up to? Why don't you get born, eh? He's taken a bad turn, the turnip. What on earth is he up to? Is he turning somersaults or something? The legs are coming out first and the arms are all squashed to one side. It's almost as if he's dancing ... and dancing ... and dancing, my little one ... but why don't you get born, you naughty little snail? If you carry on like this I'll give you a good thrashing ... but then how could I ask the Duchess for the forty tar@i I've been promised? Ahhh, but it's a little girl, ahi ahi ... oh oh, oh my, oh my, nothing but girls come out of this ill-starred belly, what a misfortune. She doesn't have any luck, the poor dumb creature. ... Get born, get born, you stinking little girl. ... Suppose I promised you a little sugar lamb--no, you're determined not to come out. ... If this one don't get born I'll be in trouble ... everyone will know that Titina the midwife can't manage to bring a baby into this world and lets both mother and baby die. Holy Madonna, help me ... even though you never gave birth. ... What do you know of birth and work? ... Help me to get this baby girl out and I'll light a candle as big as a pillar for you, I swear to you in God's name. I'll spend all the money the Duchess has promised me, the good soul. ...
    Seeing that the midwife was about to give her up for lost she wondered whether the time hadn't come for her to prepare herself for death with the baby locked inside her. I must recite a few prayers straightaway and ask the Lord's forgiveness for my sins, Marianna thought to herself.
    But just at the very moment when she was preparing for death the baby came out, the colour of ink, not yet breathing. The midwife seized her by the feet and shook her as if she was a rabbit ready for the pot, until the little baby screwed up her face like an old monkey and, stretching her toothless mouth open, began to cry.
    Meanwhile Innocenza brought the scissors to the midwife, who cut off the umbilical cord and then burned it with a small candle. The smell of burning flesh rose to Marianna's nostrils as she gasped for breath. She was not going to die; the acrid smoke brought her back to life and all
    at once she felt very tired and contented.
    Innocenza continued to busy herself: she tidied the bed, tied a clean bandage round the mother's hips, put salt on the navel of the new-born baby, sugar on her little belly still soiled with blood, and oil on her mouth. Then, after sprinkling her with rose-water, she wrapped the new-born infant in bandages, squeezing her from head to foot like a mummy.
    And now who is going to break the news to the Duke that it is another girl? Someone must have bewitched this poor Duchess. ... If it was a peasant woman the child would be given a little spoonful of poisoned water. One on the first day, two on the second and three on the third, and the unwanted baby takes off for the next world ... but these are grand folk and girls are kept even when there are already too many.
    Marianna was unable to take her eyes off the midwife as she dried her sweat and gave her a consu: a potion consisting of a small piece of linen that had been burned and then steeped in a mixture of oil, white of egg and sugar. All this she was familiar with already: each time she'd given birth she had seen the same things, only this time she saw them with the smarting eyes and the longing of a woman who knows that after all she is not going to die. It proved an entirely new pleasure to follow the confident routine of the two women who were taking care of her body with so much solicitude.
    Now the midwife used her long sharp nail to cut a small membrane that still held the new infant's tongue, so as to ensure that she wouldn't stammer when she grew up; then, in accordance with tradition, a finger dipped in honey was thrust into the crying baby's mouth to comfort her.
    The last things that Marianna saw before sinking into sleep were the