SUNNY HONEYMOON
639
Giacomo was struck by her mournful tone of voice.
"Why do you say that?" he asked, coming up to her. "What's
got into your head?"
"It's true . . . I'm slightly mad, and you ought to treat me
exactly that way."
"What are you talking about?"
"About what happened last night," she said with startling
frankness.
"But last night you were tired and seasick."
"That wasn't it at all. I'm never seasick, and I wasn't tired,
either. I was afraid, that's all."
"Afraid of me?"
"No, afraid of the whole idea."
They walked on in silence. The w.all curved, following the path
and hanging slightly over, as if it could hardly contain the oak
trees behind it. Then it came to an end, and in front of them lay
a grassy plateau, below which the
mountainsid~
fell abruptly down
to the arid and lonely promontories of Rio. The plateau was cov–
ered with asphodels, whose pyramidal flowers were of a dusty rose,
almost gray, color. Giacomo picked some and handed them to his
wife, saying:
"Look, how beautiful . . ."
She raised them to her nose, like a young girl on her way
to the altar, inhaling the fragrance of a lily. Perhaps she was con–
scious of her virginal air, for she pressed close to him, in something
like an embrace, and whispered into one ear:
"Don't believe what I just told you ... I wasn't afraid ... I'll
just have to get used to the idea ... Tonight ..."
"Tonight?" he repeated.
"You're so very dear to me," she murmured, painfully adding
a strictly conventional phrase, which she seemed to have learned
for the occasion: "Tonight I'll be yours."
She said these last words hurriedly, as if she were afraid of
the conventionality rather than the substance of them, and planted
a hasty kiss on his cheek. It was the first time that she had ever
told Giacomo that he was dear to her or anything like it, and he was
tempted to take her in his arms. But she said loudly:
"Look! What's that down there on the sea?" And at the same
time she eluded his grasp.
