The Beautiful Summer

by Cesare Pavese

  Then they made some tea, and Guido sat and smoked a cigarette while she strolled round the room. ‘It seems to me I let you do what you like. I have even sent Rodrigues out for a walk the whole evening’.

  ‘Will he be back any moment now?’ asked Ginia.

  ‘He hasn’t the door-key. I am going to take it down’.

  They parted at the door therefore because Ginia wanted to avoid seeing Rodrigues. She went back in the tram, feeling gloomy and without thinking about anything in particular.

  She had embarked on her real life as a lover because she and Guido had now seen each other naked and everything seemed different. She felt as if they were married; even when she was alone, she had only to recall the expression in his eyes and her loneliness vanished. ‘Is this what being married is?’ Had her mother been like this? She could not believe other people in the world had ever had the necessary courage. No woman, no girl, could have seen a naked man as she had seen Guido. Such a thing could not happen twice.

  But Ginia was not a fool and knew that all of them said that. Even Rosa that time when she wanted to commit suicide. The only difference was that Rosa did her love-making in the fields and did not know the joy of chatting and being with Guido. Yet even in the fields it had been nice with Guido. Ginia’s thoughts kept returning to those times. She cursed the snow and the cold weather which stopped them doing anything, and thought, numb with anticipation, of next summer when they would all go to the hills, have walks at night and have their windows wide open. Guido had said, ‘You ought to see me in the country. It is the only place where I can paint. No woman is as beautiful as a hill’. Ginia was happy because Guido had not taken the model on and intended, instead, to make a picture which was to extend all round a room as if the wall was open and they would see hills and blue sky on every side. He had been working it out while he was in the army and now he messed about all day with strips of paper; he daubed them with his brush, but they were only try-outs. One day he said to Ginia. ‘I don’t know you well enough to do your portrait. Let us wait for a bit’.

  Rodrigues was hardly ever to be seen. By the time Ginia came to the studio before supper, he had already gone out to the café. Others came instead to spend the evening with Guido – including women, because Ginia on one occasion saw a cigarette-end smeared with lipstick – then it was that in order to please him – she said she was afraid she was disturbing him, these people made her feel nervous. She suggested to Guido he should leave the door open when he was on his own and wished to see her. ‘I would always come, Guido’, she said. ‘But I realize that you have your own life. I don’t want you ever to find me a bore when we are alone’. Saying things like that gave Ginia acute pleasure, comparable to the pleasure of being locked in his arms.

  All the same, the first time she found the door closed, she was unable to resist the impulse to knock, feeling very tense.

  Amelia sometimes came to her house after supper, wearing a worried look and her eyes sunken. They would go out immediately, for Ginia did not want her sitting on the bed, and they walked round the town until three o’clock in the morning. In her devil-may-care way Amelia would enter a bar and take a coffee, leaving traces of lipstick on the side of the cup. When Ginia told her that she might infect the cups, she replied. ‘They wash them, don’t they’, shrugging her shoulders. ‘After all, the world is full of people like me. The only difference is that they don’t know’.

  ‘But you’re a lot better’, said Ginia, ‘your voice is not so husky’.

  ‘Do you think so?’ replied Amelia.

  They did not pursue the matter further and Ginia, who had so many things to ask her, did not dare. The only time she alluded to Rodrigues, Amelia looked black and said, ‘Take no notice of those two’.

  But one evening she arrived at the house and asked her, ‘Are you going to Guido’s tonight?’

  ‘I don’t know’, said Ginia, ‘he may have company’.

  ‘And are you going to let him get into this bad habit of not being disturbed? You stupid fool, if you’re as humble as this, you’ll never get anywhere’.

  Ginia told her as they were on the way there that she thought she must have quarrelled with Rodrigues.

  ‘He’s as big a swine as ever’, said Amelia. ‘Did he say that? And to think that I saved his skin for him!’

  ‘No. He merely said that it is all an excuse you have faked up for making love with that doctor chap’.

  Amelia began to laugh grimly. When they had got as far as the studio porch, Ginia saw a light in the window above and felt desperate because up to that moment she had been praying that Guido might be out. ‘There’s no one there’, she said. ‘Don’t let’s go up’. But Amelia resolutely entered.

  They found Guido and Rodrigues lighting the fire in the hearth. Amelia went in first, followed by Ginia, forcing a smile. ‘Well, look who is here!’ said Guido.

  SIXTEEN

  Ginia asked if they were disturbing them and Guido darted an odd look which she could not interpret. Near the fire-place was a stack of wood. Amelia had gone over to the sofa and sat down, remarking quietly that it was cold. ‘It depends on your circulation’, shouted Rodrigues from by the fire-place.

  Ginia wondered whoever could be coming that evening, seeing they had even lit the fire. The wood had not been there the day before. No one spoke for a moment and she was ashamed of Amelia’s offensive remark. When the wood had properly caught, Guido said to Rodrigues, without turning round, ‘Keep blowing’. Amelia broke into a comic laugh and even Rodrigues’ face lit up with pleasure. Then Guido got up and put out the light. The room, now filled with dancing shadows, looked quite different.

  ‘We’re always the same together, we lot’, said Amelia from the sofa. ‘How cosy it is’.

  ‘We only need some roast chestnuts’, said Guido. ‘The wine’s here’.

  Then Ginia removed her hat, contented, and announced that the old woman at the corner sold roast chestnuts.

  ‘It’s Rodrigues’ turn’, said Amelia.

  But Ginia quickly ran downstairs, only too pleased that they were not offended any more. She had to wander around for a while in the cold because the old woman was not there, and as she did so, she reflected that Amelia would not do what she was doing for anybody. She got back tired out. Among the darting shadows she could make out the figure of Rodrigues curled up back there by the sofa at Amelia’s feet, Amelia was lying back; it was just as it had been on that other occasion. Guido was standing up, smoking and chatting away in the red glow.

  They had already replenished their glasses and they were discussing pictures. Guido spoke of the hillside he wanted to paint: his idea was to treat the subject as if it was a woman lying extended with her breasts in the sun and he was going to give it the flavour and taste of women. Rodrigues said, ‘It’s been done before. Change it. It’s been done’.

  They went on to discuss whether in point of fact such a picture had been done before, at the same time eating their chestnuts and throwing the shells into the fire. Amelia threw hers on the floor. Then Guido held forth: ‘But no one has ever combined the two; I am going to take my woman and stretch her on the ground as if she was a hill against a neutral sky’.

  ‘A symbolic picture then. Paint the woman in that case without the hill’, snapped Rodrigues.

  Ginia had not gathered it at first, but it turned out that Amelia had offered to sit for Guido, and Guido had not refused.

  ‘What, in this cold weather?’ asked Ginia.

  They ignored her remark, and proceeded to discuss where the sofa should be placed so as to get both the daylight and the heat from the fire.

  ‘But Amelia is ill’, said Ginia.

  ‘And what’s wrong with me?’ flashed Amelia. ‘My work won’t involve moving around’.

  ‘It will be a moral picture’, said Rodrigues, ‘it will be the most moral picture there ever was!’

  They laughed and joked about it, and Amelia, who had refused all drinks so far, as a precautio
n, now asked for one and said it would be safe if the glass was rinsed out with soap and water. She said that was what they did at home, and described to Guido the treatment she was getting from the doctor and joked about the injections. She told him he need have no anxiety because her skin was quite healthy now. Ginia spitefully asked her if her breast was still inflamed. Amelia flew into a rage and retorted that she had got better breasts than hers. Guido chimed in, ‘Let’s see!’ They all exchanged glances and laughed. Amelia unbuttoned her blouse and loosened her brassière and displayed her breasts, supporting them in her hands. They had put the light on. Ginia looked quickly across but she could not face the malicious triumph that shone in Amelia’s eyes.

  ‘Now let’s see yours’, said Rodrigues.

  But Ginia shook her head. She was suffering agonies. She looked on the ground to avoid Guido’s gaze. Some seconds passed and Guido said nothing.

  ‘Come on!’ said Rodrigues. ‘Let’s drink a toast to yours!’

  Guido was still silent. Ginia suddenly turned towards the hearth, feeling that they thought her a fool.

  So next day Ginia went to the shop, knowing that Amelia, in the nude, was alone with Guido. There were moments when she felt she was dying. She had a picture of Guido’s face staring at Amelia continually before her. She could only pray that Rodrigues was also present.

  During the afternoon she managed to get away on the pretext of delivering a bill. She ran to the studio and found the door locked. She listened; there was no one there, apparently. Then she went downstairs in a calmer frame of mind.

  At seven in the evening she found them all at the café. Guido was wearing the famous tie and was smartly dressed. Amelia was smoking as she listened. They asked Ginia to sit down as if it was a child they were addressing. They talked of old times and Amelia talked about her artist friends.

  ‘And what are you going to tell us?’ whispered Rodrigues.

  Without even turning her head, Ginia said, ‘I’m a good girl’.

  They then went down to the arcades to stroll around for a while, and she asked Guido if they could meet after supper.

  ‘Rodrigues will be there’, said Guido. Ginia gave him a despairing look, and they arranged to meet outside for a few minutes.

  It was snowing that night; Guido suggested going to the café for a glass of punch, which they drank at the counter. Ginia, shivering with cold, asked him how Amelia could bear to sit for him in such cold weather. ‘It is warm by the fireside’, said Guido, ‘and she’s used to it’.

  ‘I couldn’t stand it’, said Ginia.

  ‘And who asked you to?’

  ‘Oh, Guido’, said Ginia, ‘why do you talk to me like this? I only mentioned it because Amelia is ill’.

  Then they went out and Guido took her arm. They had snow on their mouths, eyes, everywhere. ‘Listen’, said Guido, ‘I know all about it. I know you go in for these things too. There’s no harm in it. All girls seem to like kissing each other. Live and let live’.

  ‘But Rodrigues …’ Ginia began.

  ‘No, you are all as bad as each other. If Rodrigues is the one you want to sit for, go ahead, come tomorrow. I don’t expect you to account for everything you do in the day’.

  ‘But I’ve no desire to pose for Rodrigues’.

  They parted company under the porch and Ginia returned home in the snow, envying the blind who beg for alms and have ceased worrying themselves about anything.

  Next day at ten o’clock she dashed into the studio. She informed Guido at the door that she had chucked her job.

  ‘It’s only Ginia’, Guido shouted back into the room.

  Snow could be seen on the roof-tops. Amelia was sitting on the couch in the nude. It had been placed lengthways before the lighted fire. She contracted her shoulders and implored her to shut the door.

  ‘So you thought you’d come and keep an eye on us’, said Guido, turning towards the easel. ‘Of which one of us are you jealous?’

  Ginia sulkily approached the fire. She did not look at Amelia nor move over to Guido. Guido threw some more wood on the fire, which made the place hot enough for anyone to pose in the nude. As she went by, he slapped her playfully on the back of her neck with his open palm, and while Ginia was turning her head, he stroked Amelia’s knee as if he were touching a flame. Amelia, who was lying on her back, rolled over to turn her hip towards the heat, waited until Guido had gone back to the window, then whispered huskily, ‘Have you come to see me?’ ‘Has Rodrigues gone out?’ Ginia asked in reply.

  Guido shouted instructions from the window. ‘Raise your knee a little!’

  Then Ginia plucked up the courage to turn round and looked at Amelia enviously as she moved away because of the intense heat. Guido, from where he stood at the easel, darted a rapid glance at both of them, which he immediately transferred to his sheet of paper.

  Finally he said, ‘Get dressed, I’ve finished’. Amelia sat up, pulling her coat over her shoulders. ‘Done!’ she laughed. Ginia sidled up to the easel. Guido had drawn an outline of Amelia’s body on a long strip of paper. Some of the lines were simple, others intricate. It was as if Amelia had become fluid and flowed on to the paper.

  ‘Do you like it?’ said Guido. Ginia nodded as she tried to recognize Amelia. Guido laughed at her.

  Then Ginia, her heart beating fast, said, ‘Draw me too!’

  Guido raised his eyes, ‘Would you like to pose?’ he said. ‘In the nude?’

  Ginia looked over in the direction of Amelia and said, ‘Yes’.

  ‘Did you hear that? Ginia wants to pose in the nude’, shouted Guido.

  Amelia laughed by way of reply. She started up and ran off towards the curtain, wrapping her coat round her as she went.

  ‘You undress there, by the fire, I’m getting dressed here’.

  Ginia gave a last look at the snow on the roofs and murmured, ‘Shall I really?’

  ‘Go ahead!’ said Guido. ‘We are not strangers’.

  Ginia undressed near the fire, slowly but with her heart thumping so hard that she was shaking all over, and blessed Amelia for going off to dress elsewhere, so that she would not be looking at her. Guido snatched the sheet of paper off his board and pinned up another. Ginia put her things down on the sofa one by one. Guido came up and poked the fire. ‘Hurry’, he said, ‘or I’ll be using up too many logs!’

  ‘Courage!’ shouted Amelia from behind the curtain.

  When Ginia was naked, Guido examined her slowly with his clear eyes. His expression was serious. He took her hand and flung a portion of the rug on to the floor. ‘Stand on that and look towards the fire’, he instructed, ‘I am going to do you standing’.

  Ginia stared into the flames, wondering if Amelia had already gone out. She noticed that the heat was making her skin red and was scorching her. Now she could see the snow on the roofs without craning her neck round.

  ‘Don’t cover yourself with your hands. Raise them as if they were reaching up to a balcony’, came Guido’s voice.

  SEVENTEEN

  Ginia stared smiling into the fire. A shudder ran through her. She heard Amelia’s light tread and saw her appear by Guido’s side near the window: she was adjusting her belt. He smiled at her without turning round.

  But she could hear another step close to the sofa. She was on the point of lowering her arms.

  ‘Keep a natural pose’, said Guido.

  ‘How pale you are’, remarked Amelia, ‘forget about us!’

  At that moment Ginia grasped what was happening and was so frightened that she could not even turn round. Rodrigues had been there all the time behind the curtain and he was now in the middle of the room, looking at her. She imagined she could even feel his breath. She went on staring into the fire, and, like a fool, trembled all over. But she could not turn round.

  There was a long pause. Guido was the only one who stirred. ‘I am cold’, she whispered inaudibly.

  ‘Turn round, take the jacket and chuck it over yourself’, Guido said at length
.

  ‘Poor thing’, said Amelia.

  Ginia now turned round quickly and saw Rodrigues standing open-mouthed. She picked up her things and covered herself. Rodrigues with one knee bent forward on the couch, gasped like a fish, and smirked. ‘Not bad’, he said in his normal voice.

  While they were all laughing and trying to cheer her up, she ran barefoot to the curtain and desperately flung on her clothes. Nobody followed her. Ginia tore the waistband of her knickers in her hurry. Then she stood there in the semi-darkness; the sheets of the unmade bed nauseated her. They were all quiet outside.

  ‘Ginia’, said Amelia near the curtain, ‘may I come in?’ Ginia clutched hold of the curtain and did not reply.

  ‘Leave her alone’, said Guido’s voice, ‘she’s a fool’.

  Ginia began to weep silently, clinging to the curtain. She wept bitterly as she had that night when Guido slept. It seemed to her that she had never done anything else with Guido but weep. At intervals she stopped and said, ‘Why don’t they go away?’ She had left her shoes and stockings by the sofa.

  She had been weeping some time and felt quite numb, when the curtain suddenly opened and Rodrigues handed her her shoes. Ginia took them without a word and only half saw his face and the studio behind him. She then realized how foolishly she had behaved, to be frightened like that. The others were no longer laughing now. She noticed that Rodrigues had stopped still in front of the curtain.

  She suddenly was afraid that Guido would come and ridicule her unmercifully. She thought, ‘Guido is a peasant; he will treat me badly. What crime have I committed by not joining in the laughter’. She slipped on her shoes and stockings.

  She came out without looking at Rodrigues or any of them. She just saw Guido’s head behind the easel and the snow on the roofs. Amelia rose from the couch, smiling. Ginia snatched up her coat from it, took her hat in her free hand, opened the door and ran out.

  When she was alone in the snow, she still felt naked. All the streets were deserted; she did not know where to go. However little they had wanted her up there, they had not been surprised to see her at that hour. She found distraction in the thought that the summer she had hoped for would now never come, because she was alone and would never speak to anyone again; she would work all day and Signora Bice would be satisfied. It suddenly occurred to her that Rodrigues was not really to blame; he always slept on until midday and the others had woken him up; it was not surprising that he had looked. ‘If I had a figure like Amelia’s, I would have taken them all aback. Instead of which I wept’. Her tears returned at the mere recollection.