A Vendetta

by Guy de Maupassant

　　

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The widow of Paolo Saverini lived alone with her son in a poor littlehouse on the outskirts of Bonifacio. The town, built on an outjuttingpart of the mountain, in places even overhanging the sea, looks acrossthe straits, full of sandbanks, towards the southernmost coast ofSardinia. Beneath it, on the other side and almost surrounding it, is acleft in the cliff like an immense corridor which serves as a harbor, andalong it the little Italian and Sardinian fishing boats come by acircuitous route between precipitous cliffs as far as the first houses,and every two weeks the old, wheezy steamer which makes the trip toAjaccio.On the white mountain the houses, massed together, makes an even whiterspot. They look like the nests of wild birds, clinging to this peak,overlooking this terrible passage, where vessels rarely venture. Thewind, which blows uninterruptedly, has swept bare the forbidding coast;it drives through the narrow straits and lays waste both sides. The palestreaks of foam, clinging to the black rocks, whose countless peaks riseup out of the water, look like bits of rag floating and drifting on thesurface of the sea.The house of widow Saverini, clinging to the very edge of the precipice,looks out, through its three windows, over this wild and desolatepicture.She lived there alone, with her son Antonia and their dog "Semillante," abig, thin beast, with a long rough coat, of the sheep-dog breed. Theyoung man took her with him when out hunting.One night, after some kind of a quarrel, Antoine Saverini wastreacherously stabbed by Nicolas Ravolati, who escaped the same eveningto Sardinia.When the old mother received the body of her child, which the neighborshad brought back to her, she did not cry, but she stayed there for a longtime motionless, watching him. Then, stretching her wrinkled hand overthe body, she promised him a vendetta. She did not wish anybody nearher, and she shut herself up beside the body with the dog, which howledcontinuously, standing at the foot of the bed, her head stretched towardsher master and her tail between her legs. She did not move any more thandid the mother, who, now leaning over the body with a blank stare, wasweeping silently and watching it.The young man, lying on his back, dressed in his jacket of coarse cloth,torn at the chest, seemed to be asleep. But he had blood all over him;on his shirt, which had been torn off in order to administer the firstaid; on his vest, on his trousers, on his face, on his hands. Clots ofblood had hardened in his beard and in his hair.His old mother began to talk to him. At the sound of this voice the dogquieted down."Never fear, my boy, my little baby, you shall be avenged. Sleep, sleep;you shall be avenged. Do you hear? It's your mother's promise! And shealways keeps her word, your mother does, you know she does."Slowly she leaned over him, pressing her cold lips to his dead ones.Then Semillante began to howl again with a long, monotonous, penetrating,horrible howl.The two of them, the woman and the dog, remained there until morning.Antoine Saverini was buried the next day and soon his name ceased to bementioned in Bonifacio.He had neither brothers nor cousins. No man was there to carry on thevendetta. His mother, the old woman, alone pondered over it.On the other side of the straits she saw, from morning until night, alittle white speck on the coast. It was the little Sardinian villageLongosardo, where Corsican criminals take refuge when they are tooclosely pursued. They compose almost the entire population of thishamlet, opposite their native island, awaiting the time to return, to goback to the "maquis." She knew that Nicolas Ravolati had sought refugein this village.All alone, all day long, seated at her window, she was looking over thereand thinking of revenge. How could she do anything without help--she, aninvalid and so near death? But she had promised, she had sworn on thebody. She could not forget, she could not wait. What could she do? Sheno longer slept at night; she had neither rest nor peace of mind; shethought persistently. The dog, dozing at her feet, would sometimes lifther head and howl. Since her master's death she often howled thus, asthough she were calling him, as though her beast's soul, inconsolabletoo, had also retained a recollection that nothing could wipe out.One night, as Semillante began to howl, the mother suddenly got hold ofan idea, a savage, vindictive, fierce idea. She thought it over untilmorning. Then, having arisen at daybreak she went to church. Sheprayed, prostrate on the floor, begging the Lord to help her, to supporther, to give to her poor, broken-down body the strength which she neededin order to avenge her son.She returned home. In her yard she had an old barrel, which acted as acistern. She turned it over, emptied it, made it fast to the ground withsticks and stones. Then she chained Semillante to this improvised kenneland went into the house.She walked ceaselessly now, her eyes always fixed on the distant coast ofSardinia. He was over there, the murderer.All day and all night the dog howled. In the morning the old womanbrought her some water in a bowl, but nothing more; no soup, no bread.Another day went by. Semillante, exhausted, was sleeping. The followingday her eyes were shining, her hair on end and she was pulling wildly ather chain.All this day the old woman gave her nothing to eat. The beast, furious,was barking hoarsely. Another night went by.Then, at daybreak, Mother Saverini asked a neighbor for some straw. Shetook the old rags which had formerly been worn by her husband and stuffedthem so as to make them look like a human body.Having planted a stick in the ground, in front of Semillante's kennel,she tied to it this dummy, which seemed to be standing up. Then she madea head out of some old rags.The dog, surprised, was watching this straw man, and was quiet, althoughfamished. Then the old woman went to the store and bought a piece ofblack sausage. When she got home she started a fire in the yard, nearthe kennel, and cooked the sausage. Semillante, frantic, was jumpingabout, frothing at the mouth, her eyes fixed on the food, the odor ofwhich went right to her stomach.Then the mother made of the smoking sausage a necktie for the dummy. Shetied it very tight around the neck with string, and when she had finishedshe untied the dog.With one leap the beast jumped at the dummy's throat, and with her pawson its shoulders she began to tear at it. She would fall back with apiece of food in her mouth, then would jump again, sinking her fangs intothe string, and snatching few pieces of meat she would fall back againand once more spring forward. She was tearing up the face with her teethand the whole neck was in tatters.The old woman, motionless and silent, was watching eagerly. Then shechained the beast up again, made her fast for two more days and beganthis strange performance again.For three months she accustomed her to this battle, to this mealconquered by a fight. She no longer chained her up, but just pointed tothe dummy.She had taught her to tear him up and to devour him without even leavingany traces in her throat.Then, as a reward, she would give her a piece of sausage.As soon as she saw the man, Semillante would begin to tremble. Then shewould look up to her mistress, who, lifting her finger, would cry, "Go!"in a shrill tone.When she thought that the proper time had come, the widow went toconfession and, one Sunday morning she partook of communion with anecstatic fervor. Then, putting on men's clothes and looking like an oldtramp, she struck a bargain with a Sardinian fisherman who carried herand her dog to the other side of the straits.In a bag she had a large piece of sausage. Semillante had had nothing toeat for two days. The old woman kept letting her smell the food andwhetting her appetite.They got to Longosardo. The Corsican woman walked with a limp. She wentto a baker's shop and asked for Nicolas Ravolati. He had taken up hisold trade, that of carpenter. He was working alone at the back of hisstore.The old woman opened the door and called:"Hallo, Nicolas!"He turned around. Then releasing her dog, she cried:"Go, go! Eat him up! eat him up!"The maddened animal sprang for his throat. The man stretched out hisarms, clasped the dog and rolled to the ground. For a few seconds hesquirmed, beating the ground with his feet. Then he stopped moving,while Semillante dug her fangs into his throat and tore it to ribbons.Two neighbors, seated before their door, remembered perfectly having seenan old beggar come out with a thin, black dog which was eating somethingthat its master was giving him.At nightfall the old woman was at home again. She slept well that night.

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