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By Root 638 0

working. I had been content with this information, almost grateful to her, in fact, for not telling me more, since the thing that mattered to me more than anything else was that she should come every day to the studio and make love with me. But from the moment when I had a suspicion that she was being unfaithful to me, and when this suspicion had suddenly transformed Cecilia from something unreal and boring into something real and desirable, I was filled with curiosity to know more about her home life, as though I hoped that a more thorough knowledge might enable me to achieve the full possession which sexual intercourse denied me. So I started questioning her, rather in the way in which I had questioned her about her relations with Balestrieri. Here, as an example, is one of our conversations.

“Your father is sick?”

“Yes.”

“What is he suffering from?”

“He’s suffering from cancer.”

“What do the doctors say?”

“They say he’s suffering from cancer.”

“No, what I mean is—do they think he can recover?”

“No, they say he can’t recover.”

“Then he’ll die soon?”

“Yes, they say he’ll die soon.”

“Are you sorry?”

“Sorry for what?”

“That your father is dying.”

“Yes.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“What ought I to say?”

“But you’re fond of your father?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let’s go on to something else. Your mother—what’s she like?”

“What d’you mean—what’s she like?”

“Well, is she short, tall, pretty, ugly, dark, fair?”

“Oh well, I don’t know; she’s just like lots of other women.”

“But tell me, what does she look like?”

“Goodness me, she doesn’t look like anything.”

“Doesn’t look like anything? What ever do you mean?”

“I mean she doesn’t look like anything in particular. She’s just like anyone else.”

“Are you fond of your mother?”

“Yes.”

“More or less fond than of your father?”

“It’s a different thing.”

“What does different mean?”

“Different means different.”

“But different in what way?”

“I don’t know: different.”

“Well then, is your mother fond of your father?”

“I think so.”

“Why, aren’t you sure?”

“They get on all right together, so I imagine they’re fond of each other.”

“What does your father do all day?”

“Nothing.”

“What does nothing mean?”

“Nothing means nothing.”

“But people say ‘doing nothing’ just as a manner of speaking, and then they really do all sorts of things even if they’re doing nothing. So your father doesn’t work; what does he do instead?”

“He doesn’t do anything.”

“That is to say—?”

“Oh well, I don’t know: at home he sits in an armchair by the radio. Every day he takes a little walk—that’s all.”

“I see. You live in a flat in the Prati district?”

“Yes.”

“How many rooms have you?”

“I don’t know.”

“What d’you mean, you don’t know?”

“I’ve never counted them.”

“But is it a big or a small flat?”

“So-so.”

“What does that mean?”

“Medium-sized.”

“Well then, describe it.”

“It’s a flat just like lots of others; there’s nothing to describe.”

“But I suppose this flat of yours isn’t empty? There’s some furniture in it?”

“Oh yes, there’s the usual furniture, beds, armchairs, cupboards.”

“What sort of furniture?”

“Really I don’t know; just like any other furniture.”

“Take the living room, for example. You have a living room?”

“Yes.”

“What furniture is there in it?”

“The usual furniture: chairs, small tables, armchairs, sofas—the same as in all living rooms.”

“And in what style is this furniture?”

“Don’t know.”

“What color is it, then?”

“It hasn’t any color.”

“What do you mean, it hasn’t any color?”

“I mean it hasn’t any color, it’s gilt.”

“I see, but even gilt is a color. D’you like your home?”

“I don’t know whether I like it. In any case, I’m not there very much.”

I could go on in this way ad infinitum, but I think I have given a good example of what I have called Cecilia’s abstractness. It may perhaps be thought, at this point, that Cecilia was stupid or at least devoid of personality. But this was not so: the fact that I never heard her say stupid things was a proof, if nothing else, that she was not stupid; and as for personality, this, as I have already said, lay