His extraordinary insolence was mitigated solely by his distant gaze; I nevertheless felt the desire to stand up and walk out on him then and there. Fortunately I had the time to reflect that the fault lay in my rashness. I stayed, and the impassive senator immediately passed to counterattack. ‘And you then, why patronize this Erebus full of shades and, as you say, catarrh sufferers, this locus of failed lives? In Turin there’s no shortage of those creatures your sort finds so desirable. A trip to the Castello hotel in Rivoli, or to the baths in Moncalieri and your squalid aspiration would soon be fulfilled.’

I began to laugh at hearing such a cultured mouth offer such precise information about the Turinese demimonde. ‘But how do you come to know about such places, Senator?’

‘I know them, Corbera, I know them. Anyone spending time with politicians or members of the Academic Senate learns this, and nothing more. You will, however, do me the favour of being convinced that the sordid pleasures of your sort have never been stuff for Rosario La Ciura.’ One could sense that it was true: In the senator’s bearing and in his words there was the unmistakable sign of a sexual reserve (as one said in 1938) that had nothing to do with age.

‘The truth is, Senator, it was precisely my search for some temporary refuge from the world that first brought me here. I’d had trouble with two of just the sort of women you’ve so rightfully condemned.’

His response was immediate and pitiless. ‘Betrayed, eh, Corbera? Or was it disease?’

‘No, nothing like that. Worse: desertion.’ And I told him about the ridiculous events of two months earlier. I spoke of them in a light, facetious manner; the ulcer on my self-regard had closed, and anyone but that damned Hellenist would have teased me or possibly even sympathized. But the fearful old man did neither; instead he was indignant.

‘This is what happens, Corbera, when wretched and diseased beings couple. What’s more, I’d say the same to those two little trollops with respect to you, if I had the revolting misfortune to meet them.’

‘Diseased, Senator? Both of them were in wonderful shape; you should have seen how they ate when we dined at Gli Specchi. And as for wretched, no, not at all: Each was a magnificent figure of a young woman, and elegant as well.’

The senator hissingly spat his scorn. ‘Diseased, I said, and made no mistake. In fifty, sixty years, perhaps much sooner, they will die; so they are already now diseased. And wretched as well. Some elegance they’ve got, composed of trinkets, stolen sweaters and sweet talk picked up at the movies. Some generosity too, fishing for greasy banknotes in their lover’s pockets rather than presenting him, as others do, with pink pearls and branches of coral. This is what happens when one goes in for those little monstrosities with painted faces. And were you all not disgusted – they as much as you, you as much as they – to kiss and cuddle your future carcasses between evil-smelling sheets?’