read or write, Pietrino keeps “his accounts on a notched s ck” from which he recalls tales of magic. One of Pietrino’s stories involved a local man who possessed “a wonderful book in which were wri en all the secrets of the magic art.” The man became prosperous through the powers of the book, but one day it was destroyed by fire when his son got hold of it. The house was destroyed along with the book and the boy. Gordon states that the local spirits of the Fortezza are restrained by holy water sprinkled by priests on Easter. But she writes that: “Only ten miles away up the valley the witches s ll dance of a night in a half-ruined house just above the road. Strange lights appear at the window, and the witches dance in a circle round a cauldron, ‘naked as they were born.’ How my friends, who pass beneath the house at a trot with their heads muffled in their shawls, know all this, is very wonderful, [172]
but then Italians always seem to know more than they see.” The author comments on a local witch called Violante: “The witch of flesh and blood, to whom the disappointed lovers go, to weave strange spells and brew love po ons, live in quiet back streets in the towns or are to be found in isolated hill villages. One old fortune-teller, a real strega, I found at Carrara. La Violante lived in a low quarter of the town, to which Mariannina’s cousin refused to conduct us, but one morning we escaped his vigilance and paid her a hasty visit. Her one room gave on a side road, and through the half-open door we saw a bed, a bare table, and a li le charcoal range; the lintel was guarded by a small bas-relief of the Madonna. Dressed in a patched gown, a tawny kerchief on her head, beneath which fell a few wisps of white hair, La Violante looked as poor as her lair. But Mariannina says that a good many soldi are hidden away somewhere, for she has an appointment for every moment of the day and no one gives her ‘less than twopence and sometimes they give her a silver franc.’ ” “She shot stealthy glances at me and kept up a running commentary as she threw the greasy cards in fantas c pa erns upon the table: ‘Oh, I tell the truth—proprio la verita—and if you come on Friday the cards go best of all. My clients all know that La Violante is as good as her word, they are not always so good at keeping a bargain. Only the other day I foretold that a Signora would give birth to a son. ‘Now, Violante,’ she said, ‘if you are right I’ll give you a new cloak.’ Well, the Signora got her son but I never got my cloak.’ And her eyes twinkled, though she shook her head sadly.” “ ‘Fiori, fiori, fiori’ mumbled Violante as she turned up the court cards, ‘and they are all fiori del Morettino,’ for the dark-haired knave always appeared at every cut of the pack.” “ ‘Do you know a More no who is in love with you?’ and she turned on me a searching look, but she evidently did not expect me to answer so compromising a question.” “ ‘My husband is fair,’ I remarked.” “ ‘Yes, there is a Biondino too, but Ecco il More no, who loves you well: here are le ers to delight you and all good things, always from the More no, Flowers, flowers, flowers, from the little dark one.’ ” “The absurd thing was that Violante predicted I should receive a le er containing a sum of money, which was to be en rely for myself, and within a fortnight I received a small and totally unexpected legacy, which arrived by cheque in a le er. Consequently, Mariannina now believes more than ever in La Violante, and keeps a sharp look out for the Morettino.” “In Naples you can get a witch to knock, with many charms and incanta ons, twenty-four clout-headed nails, and six wire nails, into a green lemon, and fasten them together with string, which must be crimson. ‘Then you put this deadly symbol, Fa ura della Morte, in the house of