“The Wives’ Friend” (“L’amica delle mogli”)

Translated by Shirley Vinall

How to cite this work:

Pirandello, Luigi. “The Wives’ Friend” (“L’amica delle mogli”), tr. Shirley Vinall. In Stories for a Year, eds. Lisa Sarti and Michael Subialka, Digital Edition, www.pirandellointranslation.org, 2024.

Published in 1894 as part of the collection Loveless Loves (Amori senza amore) by the Roman publisher Bontempelli, this story follows a somewhat unusual trajectory within Pirandello’s body of work. He did not revisit it or consider republishing it, but he did reimagine its plot thirty years later as a two-act comedy of the same name, crafted specifically for his muse, Marta Abba, to star in the leading role. Pirandello chose not to include “The Friend to the Wives” in any of the volumes of Stories for a Year. It was only posthumously that the story found its place in the Appendix, published in 1938 alongside other tales the author had decided to omit.

The collection’s title, Loveless Love, gives a hint to its focus: a cold, and often cynical portrayal of romantic relationships, which is a recurrent motif throughout the stories collected within it. Much like the two other coeval stories in this collection, “The Wave” (“L’onda,” 1894) and “The Signorina” (“La signorina,” 1894), “The Wives’ Friend” is crafted around an unloving concept of love, where passion and genuine emotions are juxtaposed against the calculated sentiment typical of marriage. Love itself, in this context, seems less about affection and more about the power dynamics of seduction and jealousy.

At the heart of this story is Pia Tolosani, a flirtatious young woman whose silent psychological maneuvering wields a quiet but potent influence over the relationships of others. Her subtle manipulation of other couples’ affairs illustrates the subliminal power women can exert over men in Pirandello’s work. Pia’s satisfaction lies in remaining unattainable, free from commitment, while shrewdly controlling the emotions of those around her. By the end of the story, she maintains her composure while the men, drawn to her aloofness, become increasingly ensnared by their feelings for her. As in many of Pirandello’s tales, it is a woman’s indifference that heightens male desire, making her unattainability all the more alluring. Pia masterfully draws in her admirers, only to reject them with cold disdain, steering them toward other women, over whom she assumes the role of confidante. This dynamic elevates Pia to a near-idealized status, leaving the reader to ponder whether she is driven by a love of power, a desire for revenge, or simply by the need to be adored.

Interestingly, Pirandello used Pia’s self-imposed unattainability as a central motif, making her a model not only for women but also for men, who see in her perfection the inevitable inferiority of their own wives, unable to measure up to her. This theme became the heart of The Wives’ Friend (L’amica delle mogli), the comedy by the same title written in the summer of 1926, a few years after Pirandello met his muse, Marta Abba. She played the main role when it was staged at the Teatro Argentina in Rome in April 1927 as part of the season for the Teatro d'Arte, the company Pirandello directed in those years. The play’s tragic conclusion, which, unlike the short story, culminates in the death of one of Marta’s suitors (Pirandello renamed the protagonist after Abba), shocked audiences, while critics praised the play's dialogic structure, drawing attention to Pirandello's apparent shift in focus from narrative to theater. That shift, or rather the interplay between the two forms, was something that Pirandello had been working on ever since the beginning of his writerly career. He had already begun testing the waters, writing for the theater as early as 1892 with The Epilogue (L'Epilogo). This is an interesting case in Pirandello’s corpus where a drama inspires a later short story, “Fear” (“La paura,” 1897), rather than the other way around as in the case of The Wives’ Friend and many other theatrical adaptations from his stories. The Epilogue was retitled The Vise (La morsa) and successfully staged in 1910.

The Editors

I

Some of Signorina Pia Tolosani’s friends, including Paolo Baldìa, thought that she suffered somewhat from the vague melancholy that tends to result from too much reading, when one has made a habit of shaping the often blank pages of one’s life along the lines of those printed in some novel. But in the opinion of another friend, Giorgio Dàula, she had done this without too much detriment to her own spontaneity. Furthermore, this melancholy was perfectly understandable and could even seem especially sincere in a sensible young lady, already around twenty-six years old, who knows she has no dowry, and sees her parents are now advanced in age. This, finally, was how the lawyer Filippo Venzi excused her behavior.

None of the young men who attended the Tolosani drawing room had ever been impelled to pay court to Pia in any way. Maybe it was her father’s trusting friendship and her mother’s quiet goodness which held them back; or maybe it was the excessive respect that Pia commanded, absorbed as she was in her apparently self-imposed task of cutting short any action or words on her own part that could in any way suggest flirtatiousness. And yet this self-control was accompanied by the most elegant nonchalance, and the most exquisite courtesy combined with a certain gracious friendliness which immediately prevented new arrivals from feeling awkward. Indeed, they all saw in her the good, intelligent, meek little wife, and she herself seemed to be putting all her effort, indeed the whole of herself, into proving that this is what she would become, when one of them finally made a decision, though without expecting any encouragement in advance from her―not a look, not a smile, not a word.

They all admired the neatness of the house where her pure white hands had taken care of every detail; they all noted its simplicity and good taste. However, not one of them could make up his mind. It was almost as if they felt that they were happy enough there as things were, as they were able to admire everything and chat in a friendly way, without wishing for anything else.[1]

Pia Tolosani, moreover, showed no preference for anyone. “Perhaps she would marry me,” each one of them thought, “just as she might marry any other of her visitors.” Indeed, as soon as any one of them tried to advance himself a little in her good graces, she would distance herself with measured coldness, as if to avoid corroborating even the most harmless of rumors.

It was in this way that Filippo Venzi, who was now married, had escaped the desired bonds of matrimony with Pia; as had two other secret suitors before him. Next it was the turn of Paolo Baldìa.

“Go on then, fall in love! What a fool you are!” This is what Giorgio Dàula, his close friend and a long-standing friend of the Tolosani family, had said to him.

“You are getting on my nerves, my friend!” Baldìa had replied, in his usual bored manner. “I have already tried twice, with no luck.”

“Try a third time, then, what the devil!”

“Who do you want me to fall in love with?”

“Well, Pia Tolosani, of course!”

So, to comply with his friend’s wishes, Baldìa had almost set about doing so.[2] Had Pia Tolosani been aware of this? Giorgio Dàula thought so; he even suggested that she had never revealed her feelings for anyone, not even Venzi, as she had now done for him.

“But how do you mean, revealed her feelings?” exclaimed Baldìa. “She is totally emotionless!”

“What nonsense! You’ll see. Anyway, this emotionlessness should give you confidence if you are to marry her.”

“Sorry, why don’t you marry her yourself?”

“Because I can’t, you know! That is to say, I could, just as you can…”

II

All of a sudden Baldìa had left Rome for his hometown. His disappearance was the cause of much discussion in the Tolosani household. After about a month, he came back.

“Well?” asked Dàula when he came across him by accident, looking very busy.

“I have followed your advice. I am getting married!”

“Are you serious? To Pia Tolosani?”

“But what do you mean, Pia Tolosani! No, someone from down there, from home…”

“Oh, you rascal! Were you keeping her a secret from us?”[3]

“No, not at all,” replied Baldìa with a laugh. “It’s a very simple story. My father says to me: Are you unattached at the moment? I reply, Yes, I am. It’s true that I was, and so… That’s it. I didn’t accept or refuse. I just said: Let me see her. First of all, I have to be sure that I don’t take a dislike to her. I didn’t. She is a fine girl, with a fine dowry… [4] So I accepted, and here I am! Oh, tell me, am I due at the Tolosanis’ tonight? It’s Thursday today, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes indeed…” replied Dàula. “In fact, to be proper, you ought to make an announcement…”

“Yes, yes… but I… I don’t know, I’m in a difficult position… I never said anything to Signorina Pia of course, there has never been anything between us, and yet… You see, I have an impression…”

“You must win her over! It would be worse not to go…”

“I would have an excuse: I have so much to do! I am setting up our home …”

“Are you getting married soon?”

“Yes, certainly! When things drag on too long they lead to trouble… It will be soon, within three months! I’ve already got a house in Via Venti Settembre.[5] You’ll see it! But it’s driving me mad… Just imagine! Having to organize absolutely everything…”

“Are you coming tonight?”

“I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

And that evening off he went to the Tolosanis’.

The drawing room was busier than usual. It seemed to Baldìa that all these people had come just to make things more difficult for him. How does one go about announcing one’s wedding? he asked himself. He could have already done so twice, in response to the questions people had asked him about his journey and his absence. But instead he had blushed and made vague replies. Finally, as the evening went on, he made a decision, taking advantage of the reference made by one of the other visitors to the fact that he had a great deal to do at the moment.

“I have even more to do, my friend!” said Baldìa.

“You do?” laughed Signora Venzi. “But you never do anything!”

“What do you mean, I never do anything! I am setting up house, Signora Venzi.”

“Are you getting married?”

“Yes, I am… unfortunately!”

There was general consternation. Questions were raised thick and fast, and Giorgio Dàula helped Baldìa somewhat in replying to everybody.

“You will introduce her to us, won’t you?” Signorina Pia asked him at one point.

“Of course!” Paolo replied quickly. “It will be a privilege for me.”

“Is she blonde?”

“She’s a brunette.”

“Do you have a picture of her?”

“Not yet, Signorina… I’m sorry.”

The discussion turned to the house he had chosen, what he had bought and what he still needed to buy, and Baldìa appeared embarrassed and discouraged by how little time was left and how difficult it was to sort out the furnishings. At this, Signorina Pia, of her own accord, offered to come with her mother to help him, especially with the choice of the furnishing fabrics.

“Those are not things for you to deal with. Let us see to it. We will be delighted to do it.”

And he accepted, expressing his thanks.

As soon as they had left the house, Dàula said to him:

“You are in good hands now. She will solve your difficulties immediately, you’ll see. Just buy everything that Signorina Pia chooses for you, and you will always make a good purchase! That is what Filippo Venzi did too, and he still congratulates himself on it. She has the right taste, tact, and even the experience, poor thing! This is the third time, already, that she has offered herself… She thinks for others, since nobody wants to think of her! What a beautiful home she would be able to make for herself! Men are unfair, my friend. If I were in a position to take a wife, I would not go very far to choose one…”

Baldìa did not reply. He went as far as Dàula’s home with him, and then, until late at night, wandered through Rome’s deserted streets, lost in his thoughts.

Why did it have to be her who would help him set up house, for someone else! And she had offered, just like that, with the simplest, most natural manner in the world… So, it did not matter at all to her that he… And he had had the impression that… that a blush had crossed her face…

III

“Come on, mother, hurry up! It’s ten o’clock already!” said Pia, already putting the final touches to her hair, inspecting it in the triple mirror on her dressing table.

“There’s no need to hurry, dear,” replied Signora Giovanna calmly. “The shops in the Corso are not going anywhere! What time is Baldìa coming to collect us?”

“Very soon. He said about ten o’clock. Or rather, that’s what we told him.”

“Well, if you’re not feeling well…”

“No, I’m alright now. But look at my eyes: are they very red?”

“They are a bit red. They’re swollen too.”

“It always leaves me like this, this awful headache! Listen, someone’s at the door. It’ll be him!”

Instead it was Signora Anna Venzi with her two children and the maid, as usual. These two pale, neglected-looking children were a constant source of worry to Pia. She had not yet been able to persuade their mother to dress them in a more cheerful and casual way, and she was almost in despair about it. Those long trousers, that smooth, straight hair, and those little legs swathed in socks really upset her. Although Anna followed all Pia’s advice obsequiously, she had remained stubborn and unsophisticated in matters relating to her children. Pia had approached her husband in vain: Filippo closed his eyes or sadly shrugged his shoulders:

“Yes, I can see; but if his mother… I have other things to think about, Signorina!”

Anna was coming to join in Baldìa’s shopping expedition, driven by a curiosity which was not perhaps devoid of envy. Added to the curiosity and envy was also, perhaps, a touch of jealousy which was not yet clearly defined, as she almost sensed that in the future Pia would have more in common with the new bride than with her.

Although she had lived in Rome for some years, she had not been able to secure any friendships, except with the Tolosani family, to whom she had been introduced by her husband a few days after she arrived in the capital. At the time, Anna was most uncultivated, without any experience of life, or the manners of polite society. It was very hard to understand how such a cultured and intelligent young man as the lawyer Filippo Venzi, one of the most prominent members of the Roman bar, could have chosen her and made her his wife. She wasn’t even beautiful, for God’s sake! His friends confided their disappointment to each other, but nobody, except perhaps Filippo himself, understood what Pia Tolosani had felt when she saw her. What! For her? But she had given her the warmest of welcomes, and as time went on she became very protective of her where her husband was concerned. For not long after his wedding, Venzi had become very sad, and, in fact, none of his friends felt that he lacked justification. Pia Tolosani even began to take Anna under her wing, and soon her company became indispensable to her. She chose the material for her clothes, she recommended dressmakers and milliners, she had taught her how to do her hair in a less clumsy way, and how to look after her house and gradually beautify it with all the elegant little things that women can find to make homes for themselves. She put her fullest, most heartfelt effort into this. And she had gone even further.

Anna foolishly told her each time anything happened with her husband, all the slightest disagreements and misunderstandings. And then Pia had even proposed a very tactful way of resolving the early disputes: without ever participating herself, she listened to each of them separately, blunting their annoyance, and giving Anna wise advice about being sensible, and being patient…

“You don’t know the right way to deal with your husband! You should do like this and like that…” she told her. “You don’t know him well enough. Yes indeed, dear! You see? In my opinion, he needs such and such…”

To him, in turn, she spoke in mock anger, not letting him complain or make excuses:

“Hush! You are wrong, Venzi, admit that you are wrong! Poor Anna! She is so good-hearted… Yes, we know, she is still rather inexperienced… And you, you strange fellow, you take advantage of that! Yes, I know; but you dreadful men are all the same!”

It is true that after living in Rome for so many years and being tutored in this way Anna was much improved, even in the judgement of their disappointed friends; but she nevertheless left much to be desired, especially from her husband’s point of view.

“Aren’t you dressed yet?” she asked Pia as she came in.

“Oh, it’s you. That’s good. Do sit down. Have you got the children with you? My goodness! How are we going to manage to take them with us?”

“No, they are staying here,” replied Anna. “Tittì was screaming, so I had to bring her with me. Aren’t you dressed yet?”[6]

“Mother can’t make up her mind, can’t you see? She is being difficult today. And I have a bit of a headache…”

“Let’s put the trip off till tomorrow…” suggested Signora Giovanna.

“Good God, Anna!” began Pia, to change the subject immediately. “Why don’t you put your hair up a little! Go on! How have you done your hair today?”

“Tittì was screaming…” repeated Anna. “You sort it out for me, please. When Tittì is behaving like that, I can’t stand it.”

Signora Giovanna went out of the room, leaving Anna and Pia to talk to each other.

“So Baldìa is getting married, just like that, all of a sudden…” began Anna, keeping her eyes on Pia as she got ready.

“Yes indeed! It is odd: every now and then one of the men disappears and then comes back with a wife.”

“I don’t know if I should say this,” began Anna. “But I would have almost sworn that Baldìa had you in mind, or at least, that’s what I thought…”

“No, that’s impossible!” exclaimed Pia loudly, blushing to the roots of her hair.

“I swear,” continued Anna in the same tone, “that’s what I believed. Indeed, I said to myself, When will he make up his mind? It doesn’t matter at all to you, I know… But I…”

The maid came in to announce that Signor Baldìa was waiting in the drawing-room.

“You go,” said Pia to Anna. “We are almost ready now.”

IV

Paolo Baldìa was in the drawing-room, anxiously awaiting Pia. He was already rebuking himself for perhaps arriving a little too early. He wanted to pay even closer attention to her words and her manner, to see whether her indifference towards him the previous evening had been intentional or not. But perhaps soon, on seeing Pia, he would lack the clarity of mind needed for this investigation.

Within those walls, where until a short while previously he had briefly cherished the idea of falling in love, and where he might have let slip the tiniest hint, or cast a slightly meaningful glance, he felt a keen sense of discomfort. While he stood there waiting, he looked closely at the familiar objects artistically installed and arranged here and there. At that moment the image of his future bride, so different in every way from Pia, was very far from his mind. Nevertheless, he had firmly promised himself to love her sincerely, to take the best possible care of her, and to be both her teacher and her husband. In other words, in the great emptiness that he had felt until then, she would become the sole aim and occupation of his life. But, for the moment, she was miles away.

Anna Venzi, entering the room, brought her back to mind.

“I’m coming too, Baldìa. I also want to do something for your… But mind! You haven’t told us yet what her name is…”

“She is called Elena,” replied Baldìa.

“She’ll be charming… I’m sure…”

“Of course…” said Paolo, shrugging his shoulders.

“You’ll introduce her to me too, won’t you?”

“Certainly, Signora, with pleasure…”

Finally Pia appeared, dressed (so it seemed to Paolo) with more care than usual.

“I’m sorry, Baldìa! We have kept you waiting for a while… We can go now! My mother is ready… Well, no, wait a moment! Have you got the list with you?”

“I have it here, Signorina.”

“That’s fine, then! We can go. You haven’t bought anything yet, have you?”

“No, nothing at all.”

“Then we won’t be able to buy everything in just one day. Anyway, we’ll see. You don’t need to hurry, and leave it all to us.”

On the way they began asking questions about the dear little bride. Paolo, to keep his composure, gave perfunctory answers, affecting indifference about what he was about to undertake.

“You really are something, you know!” exclaimed Pia at a certain point, with an irritated air.

“But why, Signorina?” replied Paolo with a smile. “It is the honest truth: I really don’t know her yet.[7] You find that amusing? I must have seen her there about a dozen times, more or less. But anyway! We will have time to get to know each other… I know that she is a fine girl, and that’s enough for me, for now. You want to know her tastes, but I don’t know anything about them…”

“And what if she is not happy with what we do?”

“Don’t worry! You go ahead, and she will be happy.”

“Tell the truth,” said Pia, turning to Anna. “Were you happy?”

“Yes, you know I was, very happy,” replied Anna.

“But at least your husband wasn’t as unpleasant as Baldìa. Sorry, but what do you mean by seeming so unconcerned? Shame on you! Don’t you know that you will soon be married?”

“Am I not gloomy enough?” Paolo asked jokingly.

“If you had only seen Venzi when he was in your place! Poor fellow, he was a piteous sight. Constantly tormented by the fear of having forgotten something… And so he rushed all over the place, with my mother and me chasing after him, from the house, to this shop or another… Oh, we were exhausted, I can tell you! But we laughed a lot… And how hard we worked.”

They went into a large store selling fabrics in Corso Vittorio Emanuele.[8] Two very courteous sales assistants were immediately at their service. Anna Venzi stared in astonishment at the ugly reproductions of antique tapestries hanging from the rail of the gallery which ran above them around the huge room full of fabrics. Signora Giovanna closely examined and felt the various displays which were expertly arranged here and there. She did not want to get mixed up in Baldìa’s purchases.

“What quality do you want? You must tell me…” Pia said to him.

“But I don’t know… what do you expect me to know about such things?” replied Paolo, with a shrug.

“At least give me an idea, more or less, how much you want to spend…”

“As much as you like… It’s completely up to you. Decide as if…” He stopped himself in time; he was about to add: as if it were for yourself.

“Mother, Anna!” called Pia so as not to give herself away, having understood why he had stopped speaking. “It’s no point talking to Baldìa. Come along. We’ll have a Byzantine pattern for the bedroom, shall we?[9] Wide fabric…excellent quality… Or is it perhaps a bit too expensive?”

“Don’t worry about the price!” said Paolo.

“You wouldn’t have to buy so many yards: the Byzantine fabric is very wide.”

They took a long time to decide: they argued about the color (“I love yellow!” insisted Anna Venzi), the quality, the quantity, the price… The young sales assistant, who was very perceptive―he had already understood the situation, hadn’t he!―devoted all his attention to Pia.

“No, look, Signorina, sorry! Show it to the gentleman…”

Paolo had already tired of it all: he had been separated from his books for over a month and was now obliged to deal with matters which he had never thought could be important to him. He looked out at the street, lost in thought. At a certain point, turning around to look into the shop, he saw the three ladies laughing secretively behind the back of the sales assistant, who had moved away to return some material to the shelf. Anna’s eyes, especially, were watering, and all of a sudden she burst into laughter behind her handkerchief. Paolo came up to them, and Anna was about to tell him what they were laughing about, when Pia caught hold of her arm to stop her.

“No, Anna! I forbid you!”

“But, what’s the harm in it?” said Anna.

“Nothing, I know!” replied Pia. Turning to Paolo, she said: “Do you want something to laugh about? Come here. That silly man thought I was the bride!”

V

Paolo Baldìa was having a little rest in his new house, which was now in fairly good order. Stretched out on the sofa in his study, he was promising himself that he would soon start a new life of the mind with his books. He was waiting for the Tolosanis and Filippo Venzi and his wife, who were due shortly to come and see the house. All of a sudden, he thought that he should have a good look at it, room by room, to gauge what impression it would make on his visitors. In another eight or ten days the home would be ready to welcome him and his bride.

As he looked at the curtains, the carpets, and the furniture, he enjoyed a growing sense of fondness for his belongings. But as he was examining the house, one figure constantly superimposed itself on that of his fiancée: Pia Tolosani. Almost every object spoke to him of her advice, her taste, her insight. She had advised him about how to arrange the furniture in the drawing room; she had suggested that he should buy various useful and elegant objects. She had put herself in the position of the distant bride, and had sought for her all those comforts that no man, however much in love, could have thought of. If I hadn’t had her help… Paolo said to himself. And he had made these purchases in order to win the approval of Pia first, over that of his bride. Indeed, he was already aware that ever so many of these objects would not be appreciated by Elena, or possibly ever used by her, since she was unsophisticated and accustomed to a very simple lifestyle. He had therefore bought them all for Pia, as though he had instead been setting up house for her…

The visitors finally arrived. Filippo Venzi had not yet seen anything of the house or the furnishings that had been bought for it. Pia and Venzi’s wife immediately began to show him round and tell him about everything. Paolo took Signora Giovanna, who was feeling a little tired, to sit down in the drawing room, and he opened the shutters of the wide balcony with its marble balustrade, which looked out onto Via Venti Settembre.

“Oh, that is delightful!” exclaimed Signora Tolosani. “You go on, Baldìa. I’ll have a little rest and then I’ll explore at my own pace.”

“What great progress!” said Pia as she saw him. “You have almost everything in order already! Venzi, just look at those two little shelves there, aren’t they sweet! You need two lovely vases overflowing with greenery! Does your bride like flowers, Baldìa?”

“I think so…”

“So, two vases of flowers, at once!”

“I’ll buy them, don’t worry. Well, Venzi, what do you think of the house?”

“I like it very much!” replied Filippo. “Very much indeed!” he repeated, turning to Pia.

Anna looked at her husband, then at Baldìa, and refrained from repeating the same words.

From the dining room they made their way into the bedroom.

“I wanted to tell you!” exclaimed Pia. “You have forgotten them! Where is the bowl for holy water, and the prie-dieu?”

“Do you need a prie-dieu too?” observed Venzi with a smile.

“Yes, of course! Baldìa’s bride is very devout, isn’t she, Baldìa? Do you think that everyone is a heathen like you?”

“And do you pray every night before going to bed?” was Venzi’s sharp retort.

“If I had a prie-dieu, I would!”

Paolo and Venzi burst out laughing. Paolo had never seen Pia Tolosani behave in such a lively, almost flirtatious manner.

Certainly, she had either never noticed his first feeble attempt at courting her, or it hadn’t mattered at all to her that he had given up thinking about it. Whatever the case, her gaiety which seemed about to bubble over made him quietly annoyed, and almost tempted him. And while seeing her made the memory of his bride fade away and disappear, Pia, on the other hand, seemed to care only about his bride, and only talked about her, as if she wanted to defend her and save her from oblivion. She attributed her most delightful thoughts and most delicate feelings to the absent woman, in such a way that her own superiority to the other struck Paolo constantly.

Pia’s gaiety was in complete contrast to the dark mood of Filippo, who was the endless target of her jokes and playful scolding. The sound of her high-pitched voice felt like pin-pricks, her words causing sharp stings amidst the giggles. Venzi replied with a bitter smile or a biting retort.

For some time now, Paolo had been used to no longer seeing Filippo as his carefree companion of old; but that day, in his new house, when he was feeling satisfied with what he had achieved, his friend’s gloom weighed more heavily on him.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked him.

“Nothing, I am just thinking!” Filippo replied, as usual.

“Venzi wants to rebuild the world!” said Pia teasingly.

“Yes, to rebuild it without women.”

“He won’t succeed! Tell him, Anna! What would you men do without us women? You tell him, Baldìa!”

“Nothing! That’s very true in my case. This house proves it.”

Filippo shook his head and went off to have another look at the house on his own. So this, this is how Pia Tolosani would have set up his for him, if years ago he had had Baldìa’s money to spend on her tastes! She must have been delighted to be able to demonstrate her good taste, her wisdom, her insight...!

In the dining room he came across Signora Giovanna, who was examining every object carefully, in great detail.

“It’s very well done, I must say… It’s all most tasteful!” And she said to herself, thinking regretfully of her daughter: How good she is at everything!

It seemed to Anna that, in that house, between herself, Venzi, and Baldìa, stood a pedestal on top of which Pia Tolosani—the chosen one—was raised high.

“All we need now,” said Pia, “is the bride! Sit down! Let us try the piano.”

And with great feeling she played a delightful piece by Grieg.[10]

VI

About three months after the wedding, Paolo Baldìa returned to Rome, after extensive travels with his new bride. Elena had been rather unwell during their journey and, as soon as she reached Rome, was forced to stay in bed for several days.

Pia Tolosani was dying with curiosity to meet her, and so was Anna Venzi who, from another point of view, was looking forward to the intense pleasure of being able to demonstrate her great experience and knowledge of city manners (learnt from Pia) to the new arrival. Neither of the friends had yet seen Elena; Filippo Venzi was the only one who had met her briefly with Baldìa.

“So you have seen him, then?” Pia asked him, barely hiding her eagerness. “Well, then, tell us…”

Venzi stared at her for a while, without answering, and then declared solemnly:

“Well, curiosity killed the cat…”

“You are irritating!” exclaimed Pia, turning her back on him.

“As I said, I saw him,” Venzi continued. “He was fine, Signorina Pia, fine!”

“My congratulations to him!” said Pia, annoyed.

“He was a bit bothered, actually.”

“That’s not surprising, poor thing!” exclaimed Pia, turning her attention to Dàula. “Tell us, Venzi, is his wife still ill in bed?”

“No, she is up and about now.”

“Ah, so we shall see her soon then!”

But they had a long time to wait. Baldìa would have liked to be able to introduce his wife only when she was ready to face and satisfy the curiosity of his friends, especially Pia Tolosani. But Elena, who was withdrawn, rather stubborn, and not very talkative, did not let herself be swayed by her husband’s views and ideas and refused to make any concession to his wishes, although they were expressed in the most polite and tactful way. He was not even able to get her to wear the dress he liked best, or to take off the ribbon she was wearing around her neck, which he thought did not suit her.

“Otherwise, I won’t go,” Elena had said sharply.

Paolo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. We must be patient! Unfortunately he had encountered a rather difficult character who needed to be treated in a particular way, both gently and firmly at the same time: otherwise there would be civil war! But Paolo remained unperturbed. If his little bride was causing him concern, then all the better! At last he had found a good way to spend his time. And gradually, he was sure, he would be able to mold her into the form he desired. For the moment, he had to be patient.

Encouraged by this feeling, he introduced Elena to Pia Tolosani. In a subtle, playful manner, without offending his wife’s feelings in any way, he seemed to be asking for her sensible and tactful co-operation.

When she saw Elena, Pia immediately grasped what kind of person she had to deal with. In fact, her outward appearance did not appeal greatly to her; but her stiff, uncommunicative manner was something else, as was the way that her face colored when she set about expressing a different view and the way she determinedly contradicted her husband, who watched her timidly.

“No, no! That’s completely impossible! Let him do what he likes.” This was how Elena expressed her opposition. He was her husband, who for Elena was quite a different entity from herself.

Pia looked at Baldìa and smiled kindly. Paolo looked at his wife and smiled in a rather embarrassed way.

“I like her, you know!” Pia Tolosani declared to her friends the next Thursday evening. “She is quite something!”

Anna Venzi looked at Pia in amazement, fidgeting in her chair.

“Oh, so she has come at last! Tell us, what is she like? You like her, you said? Do you like her?”

Pia told Anna privately that as far as her appearance was concerned, no, Elena didn’t appeal to her.

“She doesn’t dress well… She can’t do her hair nicely… And she hasn’t got very good manners, either, especially with her husband… But I don’t know, I almost like it, that she is like that! Baldìa does rather give himself airs, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does, I’ve always said so!” declared Anna.

In this company Filippo Venzi seemed much more gloomy than usual.

VII

Pia Tolosani’s liking for Elena Baldìa increased quickly, to Anna Venzi’s displeasure and distress. Elena, however, absorbed in herself, was not very concerned about Pia. She sometimes accepted her advice, occasionally giving up her determination to have her own way, but only when Pia’s advice did not seem to openly correspond to some desire already expressed by her husband. If he subsequently seemed too satisfied by her concession, she immediately withdrew it, which annoyed Pia tremendously.

“You see?” she said to Baldìa. “She is spoiling everything for me…”

“We must be patient!” exclaimed Paolo once again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. And for fear of losing his patience, finally, he went out of the house. How kind was that Pia Tolosani, though! If Elena had at least been able to feel friendly towards her! She would have opened her heart and her mind! Those women would have certainly reached a better understanding between them! And then Signorina Pia was so sensible, so wise! She had such beautiful manners!... And bit by bit, who knows! said Paolo to himself.

Where could he go? Accustomed to never leaving the house at certain times of day, he felt almost lost in the streets of Rome. He wandered rather aimlessly; then, to escape from boredom, he ended up going to Filippo Venzi’s office. There, if nothing else, he would find something to read, while Filippo was working.

“Oh, is it you? That’s good! Find yourself a book and let me get on with my work,” said Filippo to him. And Paolo did as he was told. From time to time, he raised his eyes from the book and devoted his attention for a while to his friend who was absorbed in his writing with his head bent and brow furrowed. How quickly his hair had thinned and gone grey! What a tired air showed in his tanned face and the dark rings around his eyes! As he wrote, Filippo leaned his large head to one side or the other over herculean shoulders. Unrecognizable! Paolo thought to himself. In the last few days Venzi had become very caustic, even aggressive, and beneath his sneers and his remarks lay an inexplicable, almost testy bitterness. Was it possible that the humiliation caused by his wife’s foolishness and vulgarity had reduced him to that state? No, no; there must be some other reason for it! But what was it? Sometimes Paolo had even felt as if Filippo had a grudge against him… Why against me? What have I done to him? And yet, and yet…

One day Venzi had started talking to him about the Tolosanis, the father, the mother, and, especially, Pia, first with such gentle irony, then with such strangely open mockery, that Paolo looked at him in bewilderment. Whatever had happened? He, their closest friend, would speak of them like that? Paolo felt almost obliged to respond, to defend the family who were his friends, and he praised Pia highly, rejecting the jokes.

“Yes, yes… wait, my friend, just wait!” said Filippo, his face darkening although he continued to laugh. “Wait, and you will see!”

Suddenly a suspicion flashed into Paolo’s mind; but he dismissed it at once, accusing himself of over-sensitivity. However, this suspicion had cast a sudden light on Filippo’s recent strange behavior, and in this hateful, unremitting light, Filippo’s thoughts delved deeper, and little by little he saw his suspicion transformed into a monstrous reality. As the days went on, Filippo himself provided him with increasingly undeniable proof. The last instance was the most upsetting for Paolo. Venzi distanced himself from him to the point of pretending not to notice him, so that he did not have to greet him. All that Paolo lacked was an open confession, and he was determined to obtain one. He wanted at all costs to have things out with him frankly. The idea came to him when he was coming home one afternoon and saw Venzi hurrying along Via Venti Settembre. He went up to him decisively, grasped his arms and shook him:

“Well, can you tell me what you have got against me? What have I done to you?”

“Do you really want to know?” replied Filippo, turning pale.

“Yes I do, obviously!” Paolo pressed him. “I want to understand why you are behaving like this. I want to know for the sake of our long friendship.”

“What a sweet word!...” sneered Filippo. “So you haven’t realized? Does that mean that the snake has not yet warmed up properly…”

“What snake are you talking about?”

“Well, you know, the snake in the famous folk tale that was picked up in the snow by a compassionate peasant…”[11]

Paolo dragged Filippo forcibly into his house. There, in his little study, with the door locked, and almost in the dark, he obtained the confession. Venzi was unwilling at first, taking refuge behind his usual tendency to make caustic, almost brutal remarks.

“I am jealous of you!” he finally burst out. “Do you want to know about it?”

“Jealous of me?”

“Yes, indeed. Have you not yet fallen in love?”

“With whom? Are you mad?”

“With Pia Tolosani!”

“Are you mad?” repeated Paolo in amazement.

“Mad, yes, I am mad! But understand me, have pity on me, Paolo!” continued Filippo in a different tone, almost in tears. And he spoke at length of his first love for Pia Tolosani, which had remained secret, and then of his marriage and the disappointments that followed, of the emptiness he felt inside him, and of the dreadful tedium troubled by a host of restless desires, which had gradually become clarified and had taken shape in the desperate new love for Pia Tolosani.

“With every day that passes, my wife goes down, further and further, in my estimation… And she instead, rises higher and higher! She is the untouched and the untouchable! She remains, in our eyes, don’t you see, as the ideal, which you, you fool, and I have allowed to escape from us! And this is precisely what she wants to show us, when she takes such care of our wives! And this is her revenge! Free yourself from her, listen to me! Free yourself from her! Or else, in a year’s time, you too will fall in love with her, without fail… I can see it already… Like me, look! Just like me…”

In his heart Paolo pitied his friend, but could not find a word to say to him. At that moment they heard the voices in the hallway of Elena and Pia Tolosani, who were coming back together from a walk.

Filippo leapt to his feet.

“Let me go! Don’t let me see her… don’t let me see her….”

Paolo led him to the door, and when he had shut himself in his study, feeling very disturbed, he heard Pia’s voice clearly through the wall, speaking to his wife in the next room:

“No, no, my dear! The fault is often all on your side, I think you would agree… You are a bit too harsh with him! And you mustn’t be like that…”