34
ALBERTO MORAVIA
easiness and scepticism, and it was obvious that
his
purpose in
asking the Mexican to sing was simply to make Albina jealous.
The singer came to an end of her song and sat quite still, her
eyes unseeing, her hands clasped in her lap. At once there was
hearty applause from the audience in the doorway. Luciano,
too, applauded, but in a condescending sort of manner, without
taking the cigarette out of
his
mouth. Sergio clapped vigorously.
Albina, like a street urchin, put two fingers in her mouth and
whistled.
The prolonged, shrill whistle was followed by silence. The
Mexican woman looked at Albina as though she had just seen
her for the first time, then rose and came towards Sergio's table.
The latter was forced to recognize that Albina had been right:
when the Mexican stood up, she was short, extremely short, in
fact, though broad in the shoulders and with an ample, well–
formed bosom. She planted herself in front of Albina and
vomited forth a torrent of incomprehensible Spanish words.
Yet even as she spoke thus vehemently, she kept her eyes and
her face motionless. "I don't understand a word," cried Albina,
'''and it doesn't matter to me anyhow . . . People whistle at
the theatre, don't they? I have a right to whistle as much as
I like." The Mexican woman seized Sergio's full glass and
flung the wine in Albina's face.
There followed a scene of confusion. Albina, wine trickling
down her face and neck, had jumped to her feet and was trying
to fling herself upon the Mexican. But she was prevented not
only by Sergio, who held her back by the arm, but also by her
unfastened
skirt
which was falling off her. "Redskin!" she
shouted. "Let me go! I want to tear the eyes out of that Red–
skin!" Luciano sat motionless, smoking with an air of osten–
tatious, sceptical indifference. The Mexican woman had moved
gradually back to her own table, and stood there, still and silent,
looking at Albina. 'A few customers had come into the little
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