434
PARTISAN REVIEW
talk that made for a certain atmosphere of self-sufficiency, as if those
present were gathered not on the open street but in an exclusive
drawing-room. Indeed if a shabby man, or a solitary and friendless
one like Giacomo ventured in, he seemed like an uninvited and un–
welcome guest. It was a strictly private affair between those who
were sitting at the tables and those who were walking up and down
in front of them. Above this scene the full-grown foliage of large
plane trees threw a flickering pattern of light and shade over tables,
glasses, faces and clothes. It was hot, but not stuffy, and the sky was
cloudless and burning. As twilight came the people scattered, each one
going to his own house, and the waiter cleared the tables and drew
the curtains together.
After he had finished his first bottle of beer Giacomo usually
ordered another. By this time it was sunset, and he got up and walked
slowly home. In the evening he came back to the cafe and witnessed
a repetition of the scenes of the afternoon: the same parading dis–
play and the same social atmosphere, but by lamplight and on a
smaller scale. On this broad, airy street, winding up a hill with palaces
and gardens on either side, the evenings were particularly agreeable.
The wind blew gently under the plane trees and voices rang out
cheerily in the soft, tired air while women's faces took on a mysterious
look among the shadows. Less people passed by than in the daytime
and it was possible to observe them more closely. Giacomo ordered
an ice in a tall glass and ate it slowly and conscientiously, as if he were
being paid to do exactly what he was doing: to eat an ice and watch
the people go by.
He felt empty and calm, and at times he could even persuade
himself that he was master of his lonely and abandoned situation.
But he was prey to a latent anxiety, which at the most unexpected
moments gripped his heart. Sometimes he realized that his gluttonous
enjoyment of beer and ices betrayed the fact that he could expect
nothing more out of life than these simple pleasures. Or again a
casual look, word or gesture on the part of some of the other
habitues of the cafe suddenly revealed to him how much fuller and
richer their lives were than his. He had a dim feeling of pain and
resolved that before the end of the summer he would take some
step toward regaining his own freedom. For in his moments of
anxiety he felt that he was no longer free, even if he appeared to be
