‘It doesn’t matter,’ she whispered.

‘Then listen!’ I held the back of her neck and smiled at her. Cilia, still trembling, threw her arms around my shoulders and tried to kiss me.

‘Darling!’ I said. ‘Let’s make plans. We have three hundred lire. Let’s drop everything and go on a little trip. Quickly! Now! If we think it over we’ll change our minds. Don’t tell anyone about it, not even Amalia. We’ll only be away a day. It will be the honeymoon we didn’t have.’

‘George, why wouldn’t you take me away then? You said it was a silly idea, then.’

‘Yes, but this isn’t a honeymoon. You see, now we know each other. We’re good friends. Nobody knows we’re going. And, besides, we need a holiday. Don’t you?’

‘Of course, George. I’m so happy. Where shall we go?’

‘I don’t know, but we’ll go at once. Would you like us to go to the sea? To Genoa?’

6.

Once we were on the train, I showed a certain preoccupation. As we started, Cilia was almost beside herself with delight, held my hand and tried to make me talk. Then, finding me moody and unresponsive, she quickly understood and settled down quietly, looking out of the window with a happy smile. I remained silent, staring into nothingness, listening to the rhythmic throb of the wheels on the rails as it vibrated through my whole body. There were other people in the carriage, but I scarcely noticed them. Fields and hills were flashing past. Cilia, sitting opposite and leaning on the windowpane, seemed to be listening to something, too, but now and then she glanced swiftly in my direction and tried to smile. So she spied on me, at a distance.

When we arrived it was dark, and at last we found somewhere to stay, in a large, silent hotel, hidden among the trees of a deserted avenue, after going up and down an eternity of tortuous streets, making enquiries. It was a grey, cold night that made me want to stride along with my nose in the air. Instead, Cilia, tired to death, was dragging on my arm and I was only too glad to find somewhere to sit down. We had wandered through so many brightly lit streets, so many dark alleys that brought our hearts into our mouths, but we had never reached the sea. No one took any notice of us. We looked like any couple out for a stroll, except for our tendency to step off the pavements, and Cilia’s anxious glances at the houses and passers-by.

That hotel would do for us: nothing elegant about it. A bony young fellow with his sleeves rolled up was eating at a white table. We were received by a tall, fierce-looking woman wearing a coral necklace. I was glad to sit down. Walking with Cilia never left me free to absorb myself in what I saw, or in myself. Preoccupied and ill-at-ease, I nevertheless had to keep her beside me and answer her, at least with gestures. Now, all I wanted – and how I wanted it – was to look around and get to know in my heart of hearts this unknown city. That was precisely why I had come.