Fifty Cents, by Grazia Deledda

Celebrating the 154th birth anniversary of Grazia Deledda, 1926 Nobel Prize for Literature

Fifty Cents

Cinquanta centesimi – from the short story collection “Summer Sun”, by Grazia Deledda, 1933

Translated into English by Enzo Martinelli

©️ 2025 – Enzo Martinelli

In a beautiful novella by Gorki there is a hungry wanderer, who in the light, fluffy clouds on the horizon of the steppe, sees steaming trays full of exquisite foodstuffs; but when in his delirium he stretches out his hand to touch them, they cruelly vanish, devoured by space. “Don’t touch” “don’t touch” was at least written on the tags affixed like butterflies to the fabulous pyramids of pears and apples, to the pretty arbours of pearly grapes, to the bowls of pomegranates and quinces, and even to the bags of dried figs that looked like pastries, at the fruit-growing exhibition: otherwise Giulio, Marino and Gregorio, the three inseparable friends and schoolmates – first technique – would also have been seized by a delirium similar to that of the vagabond.

– And if I were to touch, what would happen? – Julius asked, stretching out his big hand overflowing from the short sleeve of his overstretched jacket.

– They’ll put you in the slammer, – replied his companions in one voice, certain to mock him. For everything was for them mockery, derision, even wickedness: that particular wickedness in that period of adolescence called the ungrateful age, which after all, with all its whirlwinds and splendours, is the happiest age of man. Even the wonderful fruits wisely displayed on the benches and shelves were judged by them, by their shape or colour or position, with mocking and piquant expressions: and everything was good for provoking laughter and salacious comments.

He did not retaliate, Giulio, to the threat of the slammer; but he knew he could take revenge, and he waited for the moment with a sincere throb of joy.

– And now, dear friends, I will show you how you can touch this stuff, without disturbing the well-deserving weapon, with its handcuffs.

They had reached the end of the long hall where, like the altar in a church, a table stood with trophies of fruit and even ornamental flowers. In the middle, on a crystal bowl, was a gigantic pear, of an almost incandescent colour: and on the wall a painting of a still life in bright colours looked like a mirror reflecting so much goodness. The crowd crowded around it, with aesthetic, ina also gluttonous adoration, which would have turned into martyrdom if immediately after the altar, at the corner of the room, above a bench covered with bags and jars, crowned with a festoon of grapes, in the arch of which dominated a beautiful girl who looked like one of those allegorical figures of the colourist painters, – apples on her cheeks, cherries on her tinted lips, frizzy and orange on her moustache, like certain exotic gourds next door, – had not a refreshment sign been noticed: Sale to the public.

And it was here that Giulio consummated his revenge. He had a lira in his pocket; he palmed it, with the nervous, bony fingers of a worker’s son, warmed it, seemed to want to melt it again. His rapacious eyes ran from one bag to another: they discarded those on which there was a price above his means, and finally fixed on certain red paper bags that gave the idea of Japanese light bulbs. However, it was not only the narrowness of their cost that attracted his attention: it was the colour and shape of the fruits the bags contained that attracted him most of all; and a whole world far away, but rooted in his flesh with the indestructible ribbing of the race, closed for him in the bag. Here was his grandfather’s yard, before Giulio’s father emigrated and made [p. The courtyard is cluttered with bricks, because his grandfather is also a master builder: but in the middle stands a beautiful tree, with leaves as green as if cut from vitriolic-dyed silk: and between one leaf and another, countless small, scarlet fruits, which seem hard, but when eaten are sweet and tender, with a tenderness that is a little resistant, that lingers, allows itself to be sucked, and little by little, allows itself to be enjoyed.

It is the jujube tree.

When the pouch was his, he also enjoyed his revenge to the full: he began to grope it, to bring it close to his face, to approach his companions’ stretched faces. He asked:

Where are the carabinieri?

A little disheartened, the others groped each other’s sacks in turn, exchanging glances of understanding: but in both of them they had nothing but ten soldi. With this ten pennies one could, it is true, buy a bunch of grapes; the grapes, however, did not tempt them, and besides, as the price was not indicated, they were afraid of making a fool of the fox under the bower. They therefore went after their companion, who at least had the delicacy not to open the little bag yet, and as they came out of the hall they regained their spirits, cheered also by the sun that warmed the benches of the esplanade and by the beauty of everything. There passed grey droves of boarding-school girls, led by long, melancholy priests; there passed rubicund pensioners, who, having tasted the wine from the kiosk next door, still smiled at life and at the beautiful girls with their mischievous berets placed on their mad little heads: The grass of the meadows glistened as if painted, and the sky looked like a sculptor’s studio, with brilliantly sketched blocks of marble clouds: but above all, beautiful was the fountain, with its marvellous strands of diamonds, now high, now low, which the alabaster basin amused itself by sending up and snarling with a most delightful sleight of hand.

The three of them sat down on a bench next to the kiosk and started joking again. Giulio was generous, but not too generous, offering his friends two jujubes each. Marino, who was as good and sweet as the fruit he was chewing, thanked courteously enough, while Gregorio spat out the second jujube with contempt, saying it was as bitter as an olive.

It was at that moment that a large lady in a rich, old-fashioned otter’s coat, and with a man’s mace on which she leaned limply, approached the bench, with an obvious desire to rest. And it was Marino who gracefully drew back to make room for her, leaning against Gregorio, who greeted him with an elbow. The lady hesitated slightly, but seemed blessed to have finally found a place to sit down and to see before her, in the luminous phantasmagoria of the background, the miracle of the fountain: the sagging and hairy mask of her face lit up in such a reflection; and above her spectacles seemed to rise like a blue arch: it was the gaze of her good and blessed eyes.

The boys paid no attention to her, who in turn did not seem to care about them. They had begun to bump into each other in earnest and were exchanging nasty words.

– Are my jujubes bitter? Then spit out the ones from the money your father gives you. Or spit them out too,’ said Giulio, handing two more to Gregorio, but as the latter was about to take them and throw them away with disdain, the other withdrew them and for greater spite offered them to Marino.

Marino accepted them, although he too was irritated and humiliated; he put them in his pocket and took out a four-penny coin, which he showed to Gregorio.

– You. Gregorio, how much do you have?

– One million.

– Yes, Mr Bonaventure’s. No, really, Gregorio, tell me, how much have you got?

– Damn it, do you want to know? Since my father is a poor file clerk and not a rich lime-eater, I have only thirty cents.

– That’s already a little more than I have,’ Marino commented: and they seemed to become serious, but also fierce, as the juju man humiliated them by grumbling again:

– Micragna, micragna.

Gregorio jumped up, his fists clenched: Marino intervened, pacifying them.

– Listen, since we don’t have the lira to buy the bag of dried figs (they continued to scorn the jujubes) let’s go and have a lemonade for two.

– It makes one’s teeth chatter just thinking about it: and I already feel like a crocodile, my teeth,’ said Gregory: and since the sun had disappeared behind the marble blocks, and the fountain, which looked like stalactites, was sending up a cold blast, he pretended to shiver, or really shivered, in his still summery dress of a poor boy.

It was then that the big lady, who had been rummaging in her purse for a while, dropped a fifty-cent coin on the floor. Marino was ready to pick it up and offer it to the mistress. She said, with a distracted and subdued accent:

– You can keep it if you want, cutie.

Then the two pariahs ran off in agreement to buy the sack, of jujubes, not dried figs, this being the best revenge. When they returned, the big lady had disappeared; and they began to mock her.

– My, how generous she was, the old whale.

Such is human gratitude.