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The Sicilian :: Puzo Mario
Страница: 236 из 278But watch out, her father says she has a temper. Don't let her handle your guns."
Again this was sly Sicilian peasant vulgarity, but Guiliano seemed not to hear and Pisciotta swung himself over the garden wall to disappear through the olive groves.
Justina had gathered flowers and put them into an old vase she had found in the castle. These graced the table. She served the food she had cooked, rabbit with garlic and tomatoes, a wooden bowl of salad with olive oil and red wine vinegar. She seemed to Turi a little nervous, a little sad. Perhaps it was the gunfire, perhaps it was Aspanu Pisciotta appearing in their Garden of Eden with his saturnine face, black guns dangling from his body. They sat opposite each other eating slowly. She wasn't a bad cook, Guiliano thought, and she was quick to supply him with bread, more meat and fill his wineglass; she had been well trained by her mother. He noticed with approval that she was a good eater – she wasn't sickly. She raised her eyes and saw him watching her. She grinned at him and said, "Is the food as good as your mother's?"
"Better," he said. "But never tell her that."
She was still looking at him like a cat. "And is it as good as La Venera's?"
Turi Guiliano had never had a love affair with a young girl. He was caught by surprise, but his tactical mind processed the question quickly. Next would come questions about his lovemaking with La Venera. He didn't want to hear such questions or answer them. He had not felt the love for the older woman that he felt for this young girl; still he felt a tenderness and respect for La Venera. She was a woman who had suffered tragedies and pain this young girl for all her charms had no knowledge of.
He smiled at Justina gravely. She had risen to clear the table but was waiting for his answer. Guiliano said, "La Venera was a great cook – it's not fair to judge you against her."
A dish went flying past his head and he began to laugh uncontrollably. He laughed with joy and delight at being part of such a domestic scene and because for the first time the mask of sweetness and docility was stripped from the young girl's face. But when she began sobbing he took her in his arms.
They stood there in that instant silvery twilight that falls so quickly in Sicily. He murmured into her ear that peaked so rosily from her jet black hair. "I was joking. You are the best cook in the world." But he buried his face in her neck so that she could not see his smile.
On their last night together, they talked more than made love. Justina asked him about La Venera and he told her that was the past and to be forgotten.
Again this was sly Sicilian peasant vulgarity, but Guiliano seemed not to hear and Pisciotta swung himself over the garden wall to disappear through the olive groves.
Justina had gathered flowers and put them into an old vase she had found in the castle. These graced the table. She served the food she had cooked, rabbit with garlic and tomatoes, a wooden bowl of salad with olive oil and red wine vinegar. She seemed to Turi a little nervous, a little sad. Perhaps it was the gunfire, perhaps it was Aspanu Pisciotta appearing in their Garden of Eden with his saturnine face, black guns dangling from his body. They sat opposite each other eating slowly. She wasn't a bad cook, Guiliano thought, and she was quick to supply him with bread, more meat and fill his wineglass; she had been well trained by her mother. He noticed with approval that she was a good eater – she wasn't sickly. She raised her eyes and saw him watching her. She grinned at him and said, "Is the food as good as your mother's?"
"Better," he said. "But never tell her that."
She was still looking at him like a cat. "And is it as good as La Venera's?"
Turi Guiliano had never had a love affair with a young girl. He was caught by surprise, but his tactical mind processed the question quickly. Next would come questions about his lovemaking with La Venera. He didn't want to hear such questions or answer them. He had not felt the love for the older woman that he felt for this young girl; still he felt a tenderness and respect for La Venera. She was a woman who had suffered tragedies and pain this young girl for all her charms had no knowledge of.
He smiled at Justina gravely. She had risen to clear the table but was waiting for his answer. Guiliano said, "La Venera was a great cook – it's not fair to judge you against her."
A dish went flying past his head and he began to laugh uncontrollably. He laughed with joy and delight at being part of such a domestic scene and because for the first time the mask of sweetness and docility was stripped from the young girl's face. But when she began sobbing he took her in his arms.
They stood there in that instant silvery twilight that falls so quickly in Sicily. He murmured into her ear that peaked so rosily from her jet black hair. "I was joking. You are the best cook in the world." But he buried his face in her neck so that she could not see his smile.
On their last night together, they talked more than made love. Justina asked him about La Venera and he told her that was the past and to be forgotten.