“Of course,” she said. “This is the only place you can find them these days.”

“They’re getting harder and harder to find.”

“My darling, the world is closing in on us! What’ll become of us?”

It was a game we knew how to play.

I said I could see it all. “We’ll meet secretly in tearooms until I find a very rich old lady, kill her, steal her jewels, and escape with you to Vienna.”

She didn’t smile but made a face. “Even old people aren’t the same as they used to be,” she said. “You should see him when he dresses like a hippie.” She pushed away her cup. “These madeleines are disgusting,” she said, putting her plate down in front of the dachshund. “Do you think they’ll take a check in this joint?”

I called the waiter and repeated everything to him in detail, about the madeleines, the joint, the check. He listened to my words, pursing his mouth a little, as if he were tied to a pole and we were throwing rocks at him. He wouldn’t accept the check and called the manager. We handed over the dachshund as payment and left while the ladies looked on glassily.

“Oh,” Arianna said, collapsed in the backseat of the taxi taking us to my hotel, “I haven’t enjoyed myself so much since he slipped on the steps of the villa and broke his leg.” That’s what she said, while I was thinking there was a God in the world after all. “This afternoon was so boring to start with! He doesn’t like me ever to laugh, doesn’t like me to cry, I never know what to do with him! I’m so unlucky!” She was despondent, and when I put my arm around her waist she took refuge against my chest. “God, how I loved you,” she said hoarsely. “How I loved you,” she repeated, giving me lots of light kisses on the lapel of my jacket.

“You always denied it.”

“I was so stupid! I was scared of everything, even words. Where is this hotel?” she said, still covering my jacket with kisses.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it. It’s very modest.”

“Oh, I love modest hotels. He always goes to the posh ones. Are there hookers?”

“On Saturday and Sunday,” I said, and she asked how I managed on Saturday and Sunday. She couldn’t bear not knowing how I managed on Saturday and Sunday, she said, kissing my lips with those kisses of hers, as light as rain.

“You’re drunk on tea,” I said. “They’re terrible, these tea binges!”

“Yes, if you say so, you must be right. God!” she said loudly. “I don’t have any ID. Will they let me in to see you?”