The lady’s husband was a leftist intellectual, as were Nicola Rossi and all the lady’s friends. The conversation the gentleman and his friend were having was unbelievably reactionary, especially on the part of the gentleman, while the friend seemed less convinced and, above all, less rabid. The chief technician also joined the conversation and, to the lady’s astonishment, loudly proclaimed his opinions, which were even more backward. Since she was obviously following their conversation, the lady was questioned. She tried to respond in kind, and felt strange pleasure at the thought that none of her friends was there to witness her degradation.

During a pause, the gentleman started to study the lady’s sandals, then praised them soberly. The lady felt acute pleasure, but was also embarrassed, as always, and she then observed, in turn, the gentleman’s shoes. The gentleman’s shoes were marvellous. They were made of white suede, with raised spirals in brown. The lady expressed her amazement and her admiration, and thus, for the first time, she saw the gentleman smile unabashedly. At that point, the friend said that if the gentleman didn’t have beautiful shoes, who would? Given that he made them.

The gentleman clarified that he worked in leather, cutting uppers, and gave the lady some advice about buying shoes.

Though she suffered, the lady didn’t feel anything close to spite or rancour towards the gentleman. And she didn’t despise herself either: in truth she was so consumed by passion that she didn’t have time to dwell on peripheral feelings. She knew nothing would happen, and yet she experienced the anguished sensation – though not entirely disheartening – of risk, as if she were walking on the edge of an abyss. She had the great clairvoyance to sense that, for the first time in her life, something terrible had been born inside of her, no less strong for that, but destined inevitably to defeat her. So great was her revelation that it would forever alter and undermine her certainty, her every illusion. The lady even felt a vague self-respect, or rather, respect for what she recognized was happening inside her. She knew it wasn’t a matter of a stubbornness, but something that went beyond vanity and pride. All her faculties were thus taut, in a state of useless expectation.

The friend’s presence was of no use to the lady. The son brought her flowers when he returned from his walks and, looking deep into her eyes, confided his disappointment in the immaturity of his classmates. The lady thought he was boring, but in those moments preferred him to Nicola Rossi and to anyone else.

Nicola Rossi, meanwhile, still felled by his stomach troubles, decided to go back to the city, and the lady told him to tell her husband that she was bored.

The gentleman and his friend had organized their trip to the glacier. The hotel manager, also a guide, was accompanying them. The boy pleaded with the lady to join them. The lady harboured no illusions of lending the least bit of substance to their adventure, but she couldn’t help but daydream about this trip to the glacier and imagine endless scenarios. But she didn’t make up her mind.