18
ALBERTO MORAVIA
"I swear you're mistaken," said Sergio with some energy.
But he was no longer so sure. Was it really true that she was
mistaken?
"What d'you think, then? That I hadn't noticed?"
"Noticed what?"
"Last time we saw each other, with Luciano . . . in that
restaurant . . . you never for one moment stopped pressing my
foot under the table. You practically ruined one of my shoes.
You're a nice sort of chap, you are."
Sergio, at this, remained silent for some little time. Now at
last it was a question of a precise fact: he had pressed her foot
with amorous intentions. He remembered indeed having gone
to a restaurant with Luciano and Albina; he remembered
also
that Luciano and Albina had sat opposite to him, on a seat
against the wall. But he was absolutely sure he had not inten–
tionally pressed Albina's foot. Perhaps, without meaning to, he
might have kicked against it under the table. It was more like–
ly-as had already occurred to him-that Albina had invented
the whole story in order to make Luciano jealous. Reassured
by
this
examination of the situation, he said slowly: "I'm pretty
certain you're making a mistake ... It's impossible that I could
have thought of pressing your foot under the table; it's a thing
I would never do in any circumstances . . . Perhaps you're
confusing me with someone else."
"Isn't he a darling!" she exclaimed scornfully. "No, I'm
not confusing you with anyone. In things like
this
I never make
mistakes."
"She really
is
common," thought Sergio, affronted. But he
was conscious that this vulgarity, so thoroughly in tune with
the place and the person, was not unattractive to
him.
He tried
to
take a frivolous, rakish line. "Oh well, then, since you're so
positive about it, let's admit that I pressed your foot under the
table ... What comes next?"
