Free The Woman of Rome by Alberto Moravia

the idea of leaving you — funny thing you didn’t realize it until now.”
    “But, Gino,” I exclaimed, bursting into tears, “why do you talk to me like this? What have I done to you?”
    “Nothing,” he said, starting up the car, “but now I’m going to take you to the studio.
    The car started off, with Gino sitting bolt upright and serious at the wheel; and I let myself go entirely, sobbing as I watched the trees and milestones slipping past the window, and saw the outline of the first houses in the town on the horizon beyond the fields. I imagined how Mother would crow over our quarrel, if ever she came to know of it and found out that Gino, as she had predicted, had left me. Driven by despair, I open the door and leaned out.
    “Either you stop or I’ll throw myself under the car!” I cried.
    He looked at me, the car slowed down and then turning up a sidepath he brought it to a standstill behind a little hillock topped by ruins. He switched off the engine, put on the emergency brake, and then turned to me.
    “All right,” he said impatiently, “say what you have to say — go on.”
    Believing he really meant to leave me, I began to speak with a passion and ardor that seem both ridiculous and touching as I look back on them today. I explained how much I loved him; I even went so far as to tell him I did not care whether we were marriedor not, so long as I could continue to be his lover. He listened to me, sullen-faced, shaking his head and repeating every now and again, “No, no — it’s no use today — perhaps I’ll have got over it by tomorrow.” But when I said I would be content to be his lover he retorted firmly, “No, it must be marriage or nothing.” We continued arguing in this way for some time and by his perverse logic he often drove me to despair and made me cry again. Then, little by little, he appeared to change his inflexible attitude; and at last, after I had kissed him and caressed him in vain, I seemed to have won a great victory when I persuaded him to leave the front seat of the car and make love to me in the back seat, in an uncomfortable posture, which in my anxiety to please him, was too quick for me and bitterly exhausting. I ought to have realized that by behaving like this I was not the victor in any sense, but, on the contrary, was placing myself even more in his hands, if only because I showed I was ready to give myself to him, not merely because I loved him, but in order to coax and persuade him when words failed me — which is just what all women do when they love without being sure that their love is reciprocated. But I was completely blinded by the perfect behavior his cunning had taught him to assume.
    The date of the wedding had been set, and I immediately began to concentrate on my preparations. I decided with Gino that at first we would go to live with my mother. In addition to the living room, kitchen, and bedroom, there was a fourth room in the apartment, which my mother had never furnished for lack of money. We kept useless, broken junk in it; and you can imagine what useless, broken junk was in a house like ours where everything seemed useless and broken. After discussing the matter endlessly, we fixed our minimum requirements — we would furnish this one room and I would make myself something of a trousseau. Mother and I were very poor; but I knew she had saved something and that she had scraped and saved for me, in order to be prepared, as she said, for any eventuality. What exactly this eventuality was supposed to be was never quite clear, but it was certainly not my marriage to a poor man with an unsettled future.
    I went to Mother and said to her, “That money you’ve set aside is for me, isn’t it?”
    “Yes.”
    “Very well then, if you want me to be happy, give it to me now to furnish the room where Gino and I can live — if you’ve really saved it for me, now is the time to spend it.”
    I expected argument, discussion, and in the end a blunt