The Woman of Rome by Alberto Moravia Read Free Book Online Page A

than a lover carried away by desire, as he explored my passive body, from my lips down to my thighs. I do not mean to imply, however, that Gino did not really fall in love with me later on, his scheming and calculation did give place to a deep, insatiable desire, even if it was not love.
    During our outings in the car, he had been content so far to kiss my mouth and neck. But one morning, while he was kissingme, I felt his fingers fumbling with the buttons on my blouse. Then I had a feeling that I was cold, and looking over his shoulder toward the mirror over the windshield I saw that one of my breasts was uncovered. I was ashamed but did not like to cover myself again. It was Gino who, hastily guessing the cause of my embarrassment, pulled the edges of my blouse together again over my breast and himself did up all the buttons. I was grateful to him for this gesture. But later, when I thought it over at home, I felt excited and attracted. Next day he repeated the gesture, and this time I felt more pleasure and less shame. From that time I became accustomed to this demonstration of his desire, and I think that if he had not repeated it, I would have been afraid he no longer loved me so much.
    Meanwhile he talked ever more frequently of the life we would lead when we were married. He also spoke about his family who lived in the provinces and were not really poor, since they even owned some strips of land. I believe he really came, like most liars, to believe his own lies in the end. Certainly his feelings for me were very strong and probably, since we became more intimate every day, they became more sincere as well. As for myself, his talk lulled my uneasiness and gave me a feeling of perfect, naive happiness such as I have never experienced at any time since then. I loved, I was loved, I imagined I would shortly be married. I thought I wanted nothing more on Earth.
    Mother realized at once that our morning trips were not exactly innocent and let me see she knew it by such phrases as “I don’t know what you and Gino are up to when you’re out in that car, and I don’t want to know, either,” or, “You and Gino are up to some mischief, all the worse for you,” and so on. But I could not help noticing that this time her scolding seemed surprisingly mild and ineffective. She not only seemed resigned to the idea that Gino and I were lovers, but also, at heart, to desire it. I am sure now that she was on the lookout for an opportunity to break off my engagement.

3
    O NE SUNDAY GINO TOLD ME that his employers had left for the country, that the maids had all gone off on holiday to their own villages, and that the villa had been left in charge of himself and the gardener. Did I want him to show me over it? He had spoken about the villa so often and in such glowing terms that I was longing to visit it, and I therefore accepted gladly. But in the very instant of accepting, a yearning excitement inside me made me realize that my curiosity to see the villa was nothing more than an excuse, and that the real motive behind my visit was something quite different. Nevertheless, I pretended to myself and to Gino that I believed my own excuse, as we always do when we long for something and at the same time try not to.
    “I know I shouldn’t come,” I warned him as I got into the car, “but we won’t stay long, will we?”
    I was conscious of saying these words in a provocative and at the same time rather hesitant manner.
    “Just long enough to see over the house — then we’ll go to the movies,” said Gino reassuringly.
    The villa stood among other villas in a little street on a slope, in a new and well-to-do district. It was a peaceful day and all those villas outlined on the hillside against the blue sky, with their red brick or white stone facades, their loggias adorned with statues, their glassed-in porches, terraces and verandas blooming with geraniums, and the tall leafy trees in the gardens between each house, gave me a