But it was the sort of life she liked because this was the only way she could enjoy that moment’s peace in the afternoon or in the evening at Amelia’s café and relax. If she had not had Amelia, she would have been less tied but how could she do what she wanted now the days were no use to her and she found no more pleasure walking down the street? And it was sure to be through Amelia and not through any of the silly fools like Rosa or Clara if anything exciting did happen that winter.

She began to pick up acquaintances at the café. There was one gentleman who resembled Barbetta and when they left, he waved his hand to Amelia. He addressed them respectfully, and Amelia told Ginia that he was not a painter. A tall young man, who drew his car up in front of the arcades and was accompanied by a very smart woman, sometimes came to the bar. Amelia did not know him but said he was not a painter.

‘There don’t seem to be many about, do there?’ she said to Ginia. ‘The ones who work seriously haven’t time to come’. So Amelia had more acquaintances among waiters than among the customers but Ginia, who was fond of hearing the latter joking together, was careful not to trust any of them too far. One who often sat with Amelia and had moved to Ginia on the first occasion without so much as a glance in her direction, was a hairy youth with a white tie and very black eyes, called Rodrigues. In fact he did not look like an Italian at all and he had a peculiar, rasping voice. Amelia talked to him as if he was a naughty boy, telling him that, if instead of squandering that lira at the café, he had kept it, he could – in ten days – have paid for a model. Ginia listened, amused, but Rodrigues now began in his hesitant voice to treat Amelia alternately as a fine lady and a spoilt child. She smiled, but sometimes she was annoyed and told him to go away. Rodrigues then moved to another table, pulled out his pencil and began to write, watching them out of the corner of his eye. ‘Don’t pay any attention to him’, said Amelia, ‘it’s just what he’d like’. So gradually Ginia got accustomed to ignoring him.

One evening they went out together with no particular aim in view. They had been for a walk; it had begun to rain and they took shelter under a doorway. They found it chilly standing still in their wet stockings. Amelia had said, ‘If Guido is at home, what about going along to his place?’ ‘Who is Guido?’ Amelia had then put her nose outside and craned her neck to look at the windows of the house opposite. ‘There’s a light; let’s go up, we shall be under cover’. They had mounted at least to the sixth floor and had reached the attics when Amelia paused, breathless, and said, ‘Are you afraid?’ ‘Why should I be?’ said Ginia, ‘You know him, don’t you?’

While they were knocking at the door, they could hear the sound of laughter inside; it was a subdued and unpleasant laugh that reminded Ginia of Rodrigues. They heard footsteps, the door opened, but they could not see anyone. ‘May we come in?’ said Amelia.

It was Rodrigues. He was lying on a sofa against the wall under a harsh light. But there was someone else there, standing up; it was a soldier in his shirt sleeves, blond, mud-stained, who looked at them and smiled. Ginia had to lower her eyes against the glare of the lamp, which appeared to be acetylene. Three of the walls were covered with pictures and curtains but the fourth consisted entirely of windows.

Amelia said to Rodrigues in a tone that was half serious, half amused, ‘So it is you, after all!’ He waved his hand by way of greeting and shouted: ‘The other girl is called Ginia, Guido’. The soldier then shook hands with her, looking her over with an impudent smile on his face.

Ginia realized that the situation required self-possession on her part, and allowed her eyes to wander above Amelia’s and Guido’s heads to the pictures on the wall; they seemed to be mostly landscapes with plains and mountains but she also caught a glimpse of some portraits. The lamp that hung without a shade, such as one sees in incompleted houses, dazzled her without providing an adequate light. By looking hard, she could see that there were fewer curtains than at Barbetta’s, though there was a red one which shut off the room at the back and Ginia concluded there must be another room beyond it.

Guido asked if they would care for a drink.