Alberto Moravia - Two Friends

She was clearly saying these things so that I would accept Maurizio’s favors, which, I suspected, were self-interested. She wanted to gain my consent. But I did not linger on Nella’s intentions. Instead I asked, eagerly, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that he too is a Communist, even if he’s not an actual Party member. Aren’t you glad?”

It was clear that she was attempting, with innocent feminine resolve, to render Maurizio more sympathetic to my eyes in order to convince me that the offer was an honorable one. Even with this knowledge, my mind had already set off in pursuit of yet another mirage. I asked Nella: “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

“He definitely said it … Maybe he was drunk, but I don’t think so.”

I was no longer listening. My mind was already lost

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in myriad reflections, like

[VI]

I awoke late the next morning with the firm intention of returning to Maurizio’s house to confront him man to man, without the distracting presence of guests or alcohol, and, I hoped, unburden myself of my feelings of inferiority. It was as if my mind had been hard at work through the night and had come to this decision without my knowledge. I had two new weapons, in addition to the ones I already knew of: his probable feelings for Nella — or at least his obvious interest in her — and his confessed sympathy for the Party. I would have to insert these new weapons or levers into a crack in his shield in order to destroy it completely. I intuited deep down that these were very powerful weapons, and, though I did not know exactly how I would use them, I had a feeling that I was on the right track and that if I was careful, I might finally attain my much-desired victory. It may seem strange, but the idea that Maurizio might also hold his own weapons, or even the same ones, did not occur to me. And yet I should have suspected that Nella and the Party could also be turned against me. But that is how we men are made: we see everything from our own point of view and have great difficulty imagining another perspective.

This time I did not want Nella to know about my visit, so I did not share my plans with her. She was still asleep when I snuck out of the room to use the telephone in the vestibule of the rooming house. After

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asking for my name and giving an ambiguous answer regarding Maurizio’s whereabouts, Maurizio’s butler went off to look for him. After a few minutes, I heard Maurizio’s voice on the line. I said drily that I wanted to see him, and he answered quickly that we could meet whenever and wherever I liked. We made an appointment for that afternoon at his house. Then I said impulsively, “Thank you for bringing Nella home last night.”

“You should thank Moroni,” he answered; “he was the one who took her home.”

“In that case, please thank him for me.”

“I will.”

Quietly, I returned to our room without awakening Nella, who was lost in a child-like slumber. I sat at my table and worked on my translation until almost two in the afternoon. Meanwhile, Nella had awoken. She said good morning as usual, coming up behind me and kissing me, taking me by surprise. She got dressed and we went to eat at the usual trattoria, where we paid on credit. Nella kept yawning and I too felt tired, but at the same time I was unnaturally awake, filled with nervous energy rather than physical vigor. When we returned home Nella threw herself on the bed. She said, “I’m going to sleep for a bit”; I had already picked up a book and was reading, stretched out on the armchair. She added, absentmindedly: “What are you going to do today?” For some reason I answered, “I’m going to see a producer … Maybe he’ll ask me to write a screenplay, who knows.” “That way we’ll both work in the movies,” she said, yawning. She fell asleep almost immediately. The appointment with Maurizio was not until the late afternoon, so I continued to read for a while longer. Then it occurred to me that it would be best not to show up at Maurizio’s tired and nervous, and I decided to take a nap. This again proved that I assigned a great importance to my meeting with Maurizio, yet another sign of my inferiority complex, which I was anxious to rid myself of at any cost. Ruminating on these thoughts, I stretched out on the bed, my feet against Nella’s shoulder and my face against her feet. I fell asleep almost immediately.

I awoke suddenly with a heavy head and a bitter

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taste in my mouth, as if I had not rested at all. As I sat up and looked around, I realized that Nella was no longer lying next to me, nor was she in the room. There was a piece of paper on the typewriter: “I had an appointment with Maurizio to discuss working in the movies … I’ll be home early, before dinner.” I was taken aback; Maurizio had said nothing about this and he was not in the habit of hiding things. Of course, it would have been useless to hide Nella’s visit since I too was supposed to see him that afternoon. I reasoned that Nella must have called him and that Maurizio had invited her to his house at the same time I was supposed to be there. But why hadn’t Nella waited for us to go together? With these questions circulating in my head I quickly got dressed and left the rooming house.

I was now in a rush to “surprise” Nella at Maurizio’s; this way, I reasoned, I would have yet another weapon to use against Maurizio. I could prove that he had hidden something from me, and this would be useful when I decided to confront him about his feelings for Nella. Deceptiveness and lying, whatever the reason, were signs of weakness, and I was glad that Maurizio had finally cracked. Reinvigorated by these thoughts, I decided to take a taxi to Maurizio’s house, and once there I did not hesitate to ring the bell; instead, I rang it with a kind of aggressive impatience.

The butler came to the door and wordlessly led me into the largest sitting room. The house, which the night before had been crowded with people and full of light, was now silent and dark. There was no sign of Nella. I sat in an armchair and almost involuntarily thought that she was probably somewhere upstairs. This thought was surely caused by jealousy; I knew of course that the bedrooms were upstairs and that Nella could be there for only one reason,

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in other words if something had happened between her and Maurizio the night before and an amorous relation had begun between them. But, though jealousy was the cause of this train of thought, I did not feel the corresponding emotions. I was calm and almost hopeful. I was locked in a struggle with Maurizio, and if Maurizio wanted Nella that would give me the upper hand.

A few minutes later the door opened and Maurizio walked in. Standing up, I asked, “Where is Nella?”

I must have looked visibly perturbed, because Maurizio seemed almost alarmed. Calmly, he asked: “What do you mean?”

“She told me she was coming here.”

At first he looked surprised, but then he seemed to remember something and said in a measured tone: “I made an appointment with her, but not here, at the offices of Aquila Film, our production company … My partner, Moroni, will talk to her. I decided to stay here so that you and I could meet.”

Once again I had betrayed myself and allowed my thoughts to lead me in a direction that did not fit my tortuous reality. I sat down, annoyed. “I’m sorry … I fell asleep and when I woke up I found a note from Nella saying that she had an appointment with you.”

“That’s right.”