The Woman of Rome by Alberto Moravia Page A

pushed open a door that seemed to lead into another room and after having peeped in, she turned toward the proprietor and asked him in a tone of assumed carelessness what room it was.
    “It’s a bedroom” he said. “If any of you want to rest a bit after lunch —”
    “We’ll have a rest, won’t we, Gisella?” said Riccardo with his silly giggle. But Gisella pretended she had not heard and after having peeped once more into the room, she carefully shut the door but did not quite close it all the way.
    The cozy little dining room had cheered me up, and therefore I thought no more about the half-shut door or the glance of understanding that I imagined had passed between Gisella and Astarita. We sat down at the table and I had Astarita beside me as I had promised, but he did not seem to notice; he was so absorbed he could not even speak. After a while the proprietor came back with hors d’oeuvres and wine, and I was so hungry I flung myself on the food, and made the others laugh at me. Gisella took the opportunity to begin her usual teasing about my marriage.
    “Go on, eat,” she said. “You’ll never get so much to eat with Gino, nor such good food.”
    “Why?” I asked. “Gino’ll earn money.”
    “You bet, and you’ll eat beans every day!”
    “Beans are all right,” laughed Riccardo. “In fact, I’m going to order some at once.”
    “You’re a fool, Adriana,” Gisella went on. “You need a man with something behind him, a decent man, who does things properly, who cares about you and doesn’t oblige you to go without things, who makes it possible for you to set off your good looks. And instead of that you go and get mixed up with Gino.”
    I kept a stubborn silence, my head bent over my plate while I went on eating. Riccardo laughed. “In Adriana’s place I wouldn’t give up anything,” he said, “neither Gino, since she likes him so much, nor the seriously intentioned fellow — I’d take both — and quite possibly Gino wouldn’t have anything to say against the arrangement.”
    “He would,” I said hastily. “If he even knew I’d gone on this trip with you today, he’d break off the engagement.”
    “Why?” asked Gisella, on her high horse.
    “Because he doesn’t want me to see anything of you.”
    “That dirty, ugly, dead-broke ignoramous!” said Gisella furiously. “I’d like to put him to the test — to go and say to him, ‘Adriana is seeing me, she’s been with me all day, so go ahead and break off the engagement!’ ”
    “No, please!” I begged her, terrified. “Don’t do it.”
    “It’d be the best thing that could happen to you.”
    “Maybe. But don’t do it,” I besought her again. “If you’re fond of me, don’t do it.”
    During this conversation, Astarita said nothing and ate hardly a mouthful. He still kept his eyes on me the whole time, with an exaggeratedly significant, desperate expression I found extremely embarrassing. I wanted to tell him not to stare at me like that, but I was afraid Gisella and Riccardo would make fun of me. For the same reason, I did not dare protest when Astarita seized the opportunity to squeeze my left hand, which I had placed on the bench where we were sitting, obliging me to go on eating with one hand only. I ought to have protested because Gisella suddenly burst out laughing. “She’s quite true to Gino in what she says! But when itcomes to deeds! Do you think I can’t see you and Astarita holding hands under the table?”
    I blushed awkwardly and tried to free my hand. But Astarita kept tight hold of it.
    “Let them alone,” said Riccardo. “What’s the harm? It they hold hands, let’s do the same.”
    “I was joking,” said Gisella. “I don’t mind, I’m glad.”
    When we had eaten our pasta, we were kept waiting for the next course. Gisella and Riccardo kept on laughing and joking and drinking, in the meantime, and made me drink too. It was good red wine, very strong, and soon went to my head. I