20
ALBERTO MORAVIA
the slums who never discusses her lover even
if
he betrays or dis–
graces her. "But Luciano," he could not refrain from saying,
"doesn't want to have anything more to do with you."
"That doesn't matter: I belong to Luciano. And, what's
more, you're a friend of Luciano's and you ought not to try
and get
his
girl friend away from
him ...
It's not at all nice,
what you're trying to do."
She shook her head with an air of disapproval and got up
from the dressing-table. Standing there
in
her slippers, she
looked too broad in the hips for her height. She went over to a
clothes-hanger, took down two stockings that were hanging
there and looked at them with a dubious air. The
stockings
that
she had on at present were heavily darned and had highly visible
seams that looked like scars. She put back the other stockings
on the clothes-hanger and went to the wardrobe. Sergio, still
sweating freely, heedlessly went up to her and put
his
ann
round her waist. She took no notice of him, but opened the
wardrobe and took from it the only garment it contained, a
shabby brown coat. "Help me on with it, will you?"
Sergio took the coat and, when Albina bent back between
his arms in order to slip into the sleeves, kissed her on the neck.
He noticed that her skin felt greasy and that her hair had a
coarse smell. She made a movement as
if
chasing away a fly.
"Ugh, how obstinate you are!" she exclaimed.
She buttoned up the coat, with
its
exaggeratedly tight waist
that made her hips and bosom look as if they were bursting
out of
it.
Then she went into a corner of the room, took off her
slippers and, hopping from one foot to the other, put on a pair
of decrepit shoes. "Come on, let's go," she said.
Sergio took his umbrella and hat and followed her with an
acute sense of boredom and irritation. The bony, dishevelled
woman with the baby
in
her arms appeared
in
the doorway of
the kitchen.
"If
Signor Luciano comes," said Albina, "ask him
to wait
in
my room."
