another, drowsy and exhausted, I became terribly afraid that now Gino had had me, he would no longer want to marry me. So I began to talk about the house we would live in after the wedding.
The villa belonging to Gino’s mistress had made a deep impression upon me, and I was quite convinced now that there could be no happiness except among beautiful, clean things. I realized we would never be able to own a house or even a single room like that house, but the brightness of the villa even more than its luxury had given me a welter of ideas. I tried to convince Gino that cleanliness could make even ugly objects look beautiful; but what I really wanted was to convince myself, since I was in despair at the idea of my own poverty and I knew that marrying Gino would be the only way out of it. “Even two rooms can be beautiful,” I said, “if they’re properly kept, with the floors washed down every day, all the furniture dustedand the brass polished and everything kept tidy, the plates in their proper places, the dusters in their proper places, clothes and shoes all in their proper places — the main thing is to sweep thoroughly and wash the floors and dust everything every day. You don’t have to judge by the house where Mother and I live — Mother’s untidy and anyway, she never has the time, poor thing. But our house’ll shine like a mirror, I can promise you that much.”
“Yes, yes,” said Gino, “cleanliness comes first. Do you know what the mistress does if she finds a speck of dust in some corner? She calls the chambermaid, makes her go down on her knees and pick it up with her hands — as if she were a dog who’d gone to the bathroom in the house. And she’s quite right.”
“I’m sure my house’ll be even cleaner and tidier than that,” I said. “You’ll see.”
“But you’re going to be an artists’ model,” he said to tease me. “And you won’t bother with the house at all.”
“A model!” I replied sharply. “I’m not going to be a model any more. I’ll stay at home all day and keep it clean and tidy for you and cook for you — Mother says that means I’ll be your servant — but if you love someone, even being a servant can be a pleasure.”
So we stayed chatting for a long time; and little by little my fear dwindled, giving way to my usual charmed and innocent trustfulness. How could I doubt him? Gino not only agreed to all my plans, but discussed the details, improved on them, added others of his own.
After we had rambled on for a couple of hours, or thereabouts, I dropped off to sleep and I think Gino also slept. We were wakened by a ray of moonlight that came in through the basement window and lit up the bed and our bodies lying there. Gino said it must be very late; and in fact the alarm clock on the night table showed that it was a few minutes past midnight. “What on Earth will Mother do to me!” I exclaimed, jumping out of bed and beginning to dress in the moonlight.
“Why?”
“I’ve never stayed out so late in all my life. I never go out in the evening.”
“You can tell her we went out for a ride in the car,” said Gino as he got up, “and it broke down right out in the country.”
“She won’t believe it.”
We hurried out of the villa and Gino took me home in the car. I was sure Mother would not believe the tale about the car having broken down; but I did not imagine that her intuition would have led her to guess exactly what had happened between Gino and me. I had the keys of the front door and of the apartment. I went in, raced up the two flights of stairs and opened the door. I hoped Mother was already in bed, and my hope was strengthened by finding the house in pitch darkness. Without turning on the light, I started to go on tiptoe toward my own room, when I felt myself seized violently by the hair. In the dark my mother, for it was she, dragged me into the living room, threw me onto the sofa and began to strike me with her fists, in a tempest of
The villa belonging to Gino’s mistress had made a deep impression upon me, and I was quite convinced now that there could be no happiness except among beautiful, clean things. I realized we would never be able to own a house or even a single room like that house, but the brightness of the villa even more than its luxury had given me a welter of ideas. I tried to convince Gino that cleanliness could make even ugly objects look beautiful; but what I really wanted was to convince myself, since I was in despair at the idea of my own poverty and I knew that marrying Gino would be the only way out of it. “Even two rooms can be beautiful,” I said, “if they’re properly kept, with the floors washed down every day, all the furniture dustedand the brass polished and everything kept tidy, the plates in their proper places, the dusters in their proper places, clothes and shoes all in their proper places — the main thing is to sweep thoroughly and wash the floors and dust everything every day. You don’t have to judge by the house where Mother and I live — Mother’s untidy and anyway, she never has the time, poor thing. But our house’ll shine like a mirror, I can promise you that much.”
“Yes, yes,” said Gino, “cleanliness comes first. Do you know what the mistress does if she finds a speck of dust in some corner? She calls the chambermaid, makes her go down on her knees and pick it up with her hands — as if she were a dog who’d gone to the bathroom in the house. And she’s quite right.”
“I’m sure my house’ll be even cleaner and tidier than that,” I said. “You’ll see.”
“But you’re going to be an artists’ model,” he said to tease me. “And you won’t bother with the house at all.”
“A model!” I replied sharply. “I’m not going to be a model any more. I’ll stay at home all day and keep it clean and tidy for you and cook for you — Mother says that means I’ll be your servant — but if you love someone, even being a servant can be a pleasure.”
So we stayed chatting for a long time; and little by little my fear dwindled, giving way to my usual charmed and innocent trustfulness. How could I doubt him? Gino not only agreed to all my plans, but discussed the details, improved on them, added others of his own.
After we had rambled on for a couple of hours, or thereabouts, I dropped off to sleep and I think Gino also slept. We were wakened by a ray of moonlight that came in through the basement window and lit up the bed and our bodies lying there. Gino said it must be very late; and in fact the alarm clock on the night table showed that it was a few minutes past midnight. “What on Earth will Mother do to me!” I exclaimed, jumping out of bed and beginning to dress in the moonlight.
“Why?”
“I’ve never stayed out so late in all my life. I never go out in the evening.”
“You can tell her we went out for a ride in the car,” said Gino as he got up, “and it broke down right out in the country.”
“She won’t believe it.”
We hurried out of the villa and Gino took me home in the car. I was sure Mother would not believe the tale about the car having broken down; but I did not imagine that her intuition would have led her to guess exactly what had happened between Gino and me. I had the keys of the front door and of the apartment. I went in, raced up the two flights of stairs and opened the door. I hoped Mother was already in bed, and my hope was strengthened by finding the house in pitch darkness. Without turning on the light, I started to go on tiptoe toward my own room, when I felt myself seized violently by the hair. In the dark my mother, for it was she, dragged me into the living room, threw me onto the sofa and began to strike me with her fists, in a tempest of
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