The Beautiful Summer

by Cesare Pavese

  They all believed it but what Ginia meant was that she had recognized her by her build, because artists intentionally disguise the face when the model is in the nude. ‘Do you imagine they’re as considerate as that?’ said Rosa, jeering at her for her simplicity. ‘I would be only too pleased if an artist painted me and paid me into the bargain’, said Clara. Then they proceeded to discuss Amelia’s looks, and Clara’s brother, who had been in the boat with them, claimed that he was more handsome in the nude. They all laughed and Ginia said, ‘An artist wouldn’t paint her if she wasn’t well set up’, but they ignored her remark. She felt humiliated that evening and could have wept with rage; but the days went by and the next time she met Amelia – getting off a tram – they walked along together, chatting. Ginia was more smartly dressed than Amelia, who went along carrying her hat and showed all her teeth when she laughed.

  The following afternoon Amelia came to pick her up. She walked up to the open door out of the heat and Ginia spied her from the darkness inside, without being seen herself. Once the shutters were thrown open, they took their ease and Amelia, fanning herself with her hat, looked round her. ‘I like the idea of an open door’, she remarked. ‘You’re lucky. You can’t at my place because we’re on the ground floor’. Then she glanced into the other room where Severino was sleeping and said, ‘At our place it’s a regular bear-garden. Five of us – not to mention the cats – in a couple of rooms’. They went out together when they were ready and Ginia said, ‘When you’re fed up with your ground floor, come and join me, you can have some peace here’. She was trying to make Amelia understand that she wasn’t meaning to criticize her people in any way but was just glad that the two of them were getting on together. Amelia, however, did not say either yes or no and treated her to a coffee on the way to the tram. Ginia did not see her the next day or the day after that, but she came up one evening, hatless, sat down on the sofa and with a laugh asked for a cigarette. Ginia was finishing the washing-up and Severino was shaving. He offered her a cigarette and lit it for her with his wet fingers and all three of them had a good laugh about the street-lamp business. Severino had to go off but not before telling Ginia not to stay up all night. Amelia had an amused expression on her face as she watched him go out.

  ‘Don’t you ever go to a different dance-hall?’ she asked Ginia. ‘Our boys are all right but they hold you too tight for my liking. Like your girl friends’.

  They both went down to the town-centre without hats, choosing the shady part of the streets. They had an ice to start with and as they licked it, they watched the passers-by and joked about them. Everything came easily to Amelia; she gave herself up to having a good time as if nothing else mattered and that evening the most wonderful things might happen. Ginia knew she was safe with Amelia, who was twenty and strolled along as if she owned the place. Amelia had not even put on stockings because of the heat, and when they came to a dance-saloon, the sort that has a muffled orchestra and lamp-shades on the tables, Ginia got into a panic at the thought of having to go in with her. But her fear proved groundless and she breathed again. Then Amelia said, ‘Don’t you feel a desire to go in there?’ ‘It’s too hot and we aren’t dressed for it’, said Ginia, ‘let’s go on; it’s much nicer’. ‘I quite agree’, said Amelia, ‘but what shall we do? Don’t you ever want to stand at a street-corner and laugh at the passers-by?’

  ‘What would you like to do?’

  ‘If we weren’t women, we should have a car and by this time we would be having a bathe in the lakes’.

  ‘Let’s have a walk and a chat’, suggested Ginia.

  ‘We could go to the hills and have a drink and sing, maybe. Do you like wine?’

  Ginia said she didn’t and Amelia looked at the entrance to the dance-saloon. ‘We’ll have a drink, though. Come along! People who are bored have only themselves to blame’. They had a drink at the first café they came to, and once they had got outside again, Ginia felt a coolness in the air she had not felt before and thought how nice it was to cool your blood with drinks in the summer heat. Meanwhile Amelia began some rigmarole about how the people who did nothing all day had at least the right to relax in the evening, but there were moments when you got frightened as you saw the time slipping by and you began to be doubtful whether it was worth while doing so much gadding about. ‘Don’t you feel the same?’

  ‘The only gadding about I do is going to work’, said Ginia, ‘I can’t get much fun when I haven’t even time to think about it’. ‘You’re only a kid’, said Amelia, ‘but I can’t keep still even when I’m working’.

  ‘You have to when you’re posing’, remarked Ginia as they walked on.

  Amelia began to laugh. ‘You’ve not got a clue. The cleverest models are the ones who drive the artists frantic. If you don’t move every now and again, they forget you’re a model and treat you as if you were a servant. Behave like a sheep and the wolf will eat you’.

  Ginia merely smiled by way of reply, but something was on the tip of her tongue that burnt it like brandy. Then she asked Amelia why they didn’t go and sit down in the open air and have another drink. ‘But of course’, said Amelia. They had it at the bar because it was cheaper that way.

  By this time Ginia was beginning to feel warmed up and on their way out found no difficulty in saying to Amelia, ‘This is what I’ve been wanting to ask. I’d like to see you pose’.

  They discussed the question for a short part of the walk and Amelia laughed because, dressed or undressed, a model can only be of interest to men and hardly to another girl. The model merely stands there; what is there to see? Ginia said she wanted to see the artist paint her; she had never seen anyone handling colours and it must be nice to watch. ‘I don’t mean today or tomorrow’, she said, ‘I know you’re out of work at present. But if you go back to some artist’s studio, you must promise to take me along with you’. Amelia laughed again and told her that as far as introducing her to artists, it was the least she could do; she knew where they lived and could take her there. ‘But they’re a lousy lot, you’ll have to watch out’. And Ginia laughed too.

  They were sitting on a bench and there were no people going by now for it was neither early nor late. They wound up the evening in a dance-saloon in the hills.

  THREE

  After that Amelia often called for her to go out or to have a chat. She would come into the room and talk loudly, stopping Severino from getting any sleep. When Rosa came along in the afternoon, she found both of them ready to go out. If Amelia happened to be smoking she would finish her cigarette and would give advice to Rosa, who had told her about Pino. It was obvious that she did not care to stay longer than necessary in her lodgings and having nothing else to do all day, was glad of their company. And she would tease Rosa too when they were on their own, pretending she did not believe her stories and laughing at her quite openly.

  Ginia confided in Amelia when she realized that, for all her high spirits, she was really pretty wretched. Ginia could see this merely by noticing her eyes and her crudely made-up mouth. Amelia went about without stockings only because she did not possess any; the nice dress she always wore was the only one she had. Ginia felt convinced she was correct in her conclusions when she realized on one occasion that she too felt more irresponsible if she went about without a hat. The person who got on her nerves was Rosa whom she had suddenly fathomed. ‘Life’s worth living’, said Rosa, ‘even if you’ve got to go to bed when you’ve torn your dress’. On various occasions Ginia asked Amelia why she didn’t go back to posing for artists, and Amelia told her it was no good looking for a job once you were ‘unemployed’.

  How pleasant it would have been to have nothing to do all day long and go out for walks together in the cool of the day, but to be so smartly turned out that when they stared at shop-windows, people would stare at them. ‘Being free in the way I am, makes me mad’, said Amelia. Ginia would have gladly paid money to hear her hold forth so eagerly on many things which she liked, because real confid
ence consists in knowing what the other person wants and when someone else is pleased by the same things, you no longer feel in awe of her. But Ginia was not sure that when, towards evening, they went under the porticoes, Amelia was looking at the same man as she was. Nor could she ever be really sure what hat or material she liked; there was always the possibility that she would laugh at her as she did with Rosa. Although she was alone she never said what she would like to do, or if she did talk, it was never seriously. ‘Have you ever noticed when you’re waiting for someone’, she said, ‘all the ugly mugs and scraggy legs that go by? It’s amusing’. Perhaps Amelia was joking but possibly she did devote the odd quarter of an hour to doing that sort of thing, and Ginia reflected that she would be very mad to confess that evening to her great desire to see an artist painting.

  When they went out nowadays, it was Amelia who chose where they should go, and Ginia obligingly allowed herself to be taken in tow. They went back to the dance-hall of the other evening, but Ginia who had enjoyed herself so much on that occasion, no longer recognized either the lighting or the orchestra; the only pleasure she got was from the fresh air that came in at the open balconies. That is to say she did not feel well enough dressed to move around among the tables down below. Amelia, however, had embarked on a conversation with a young man with whom she was evidently already on familiar terms. When the band stopped, another man dived up and waved his hand and Amelia turned round and said, ‘Is it you he’s interested in?’ Ginia was pleased to have been noticed by someone but the youth had disappeared, and an unpleasant type who had had a dance with her before passed hurriedly by without seeing her. Ginia had the impression that the first evening they had come, they had never once sat down at a table except to get their breath back, whereas now they waited some considerable time under the window, and Amelia who was the first to take her place, said in a loud voice, ‘It’s good fun this time too, isn’t it?’ Certainly no one else in the room was better dressed than Amelia and many of the women were not wearing stockings, but Ginia had a special eye for the waiters’ white jackets and was impressed by the number of cars outside. Then she realized how foolish she was to hope that Amelia’s artist friend might be there.

  It was so hot that year that they needed to go out every evening and Ginia felt she had never known before what summer was, so pleasant was it to stroll along the avenues every night. Sometimes she thought the summer would never end and they must make haste to enjoy it together because when the season changed something was bound to happen. For this reason she no longer went to the dance-hall with Rosa or to their local cinema, but sometimes she went out on her own and hurried to the cinema in the town-centre. Why should not she do it, if Amelia did? One evening Amelia called and as they were going out, remarked, ‘Yesterday I found a job’. Ginia was not surprised. She expected it. She quietly asked her if she was beginning straight away. ‘I started this morning’, said Amelia. ‘I’ve already done two hours’. ‘Are you pleased?’ asked Ginia.

  Then she enquired what sort of picture it was going to be. ‘It’s not a picture at all. He is just making studies. He’s drawing my face. I chatter away and at intervals he dashes down a profile. It’s not anything permanent’. ‘So you’re not posing then?’ said Ginia. ‘You seem to imagine’, retorted Amelia, ‘that posing merely consists of getting undressed and standing around’. ‘Are you going back tomorrow?’ said Ginia.

  Amelia in point of fact went there the next day and for several days afterwards. The following evening she referred laughingly to it and went on to talk about the artist, how he never stood still and asked her if any other painter had ever drawn her in that way before, walking up and down all the time. ‘He did a nude of me this morning. He’s one of those who know what they’re about and arrive at their goal by gradual stages. But with four drawings they’ve got you taped and put away in their portfolio and have no further use for you’. Ginia asked her what he was like. Amelia said, a little man. ‘How did you come across him?’ It had been by chance. ‘Call for me tomorrow’, said Amelia. They planned to go along together the next afternoon, Saturday.

  The whole length of the street in the hot sun that afternoon, Amelia had kept her in fits of laughter. They made their way by a winding staircase into a large semi-dark room which took a little sunlight only from the back through a gap in the curtains. Ginia, her heart pounding fast, had stopped on the last stair. Amelia called out, ‘Good afternoon’, and walked as far as the middle of the room in the half-light and a man emerged from behind the curtains, plump and with a grey goatee beard, and said, making a gesture with his hand, ‘Nothing doing, girls. I’m off today’. He had donned a light-coloured overall which became a dirty yellow when he turned and drew the curtain back to let in a little light. ‘It’s no use my working today, girls. I need some fresh air’. Ginia had not moved from the stair. She could see Amelia’s legs against the light, some distance away. Quietly she said, as if to herself, ‘Let’s go, Amelia’.

  ‘Will this be the little friend who wants to meet me? But she’s a mere babe. Let’s see you in the light’.

  Ginia climbed the last stair, reluctantly, feeling the grey inquisitive eyes fixed on her. She could not decide whether they were the eyes of an old man or a cunning old devil. She heard Amelia’s voice – brusque, irritated – saying, ‘But you gave us an appointment’.

  ‘What do you want to do here?’ he said. ‘What in heaven’s name? You are tired too. Work is a thing you’ve got to go at gently. Aren’t you thankful to have a rest?’

  Then Amelia went and sat down on a chair under the shadow of the curtain and Ginia found herself standing for what appeared an endless time not knowing how to respond to the glances she received from the two of them who stared at each other and then at her. The fellow gave her the impression that he was joking, but it was a private joke for himself alone. He was still talking to her; he spoke in jerks and kept repeating, ‘What do you want to do?’ Then suddenly the diminutive figure hopped back and drew the curtains still further to one side. A smell of freshly mixed gesso and varnish filled the empty studio.

  ‘We are boiling hot’, said Amelia, ‘at least you can let us cool down a bit, can’t he, Ginia?’ As she spoke their bearded friend swung round again and opened the large skylights. Amelia who was sitting with her legs crossed, watched him and laughed. Below the window was an easel bearing a canvas covered with daubs of colour partly scraped down. ‘If you don’t work now while it’s light, when do you work?’ remarked Amelia. ‘I bet you are going to let me down and have another model’. ‘I let down everybody in existence’, shouted the painter, lowering his chin. ‘Do you consider yourself any more valuable than a horse or a plant? It’s work for me even when I am out walking, can’t you understand that?’ Meanwhile he rummaged about in a chest under the easel and threw out some sheets of paper, some small boxes of colour and some brushes. Amelia jumped up from her seat, removed her hat and winked at Ginia. ‘Why don’t you sketch my friend?’ she asked laughingly. ‘She’s never sat for anyone before’. The painter turned round. ‘All right, I will’, he said, ‘she’s got an interesting face’.

  He began to walk round Ginia, keeping a short distance away, his head turned towards her. In one hand he held a pencil and with the other he stroked his beard, staring at her all the time like a cat. Ginia who was in the centre of the studio did not dare move. Then he directed her to stand in the light, and without taking his eyes off her, threw a sheet of paper on to the easel board and began to draw. A yellow cloud could be seen in the sky and some roofs of houses; Ginia fixed her eyes on the cloud. Her heart was thumping hard. She heard Amelia make some remark; she could also hear the sound of her footsteps and her rapid breathing, but she did not turn to look.

  When Amelia gave her a shout to come and see the drawing, Ginia had to close her eyes to get accustomed to the semi-darkness. Then she quietly bent over the paper and recognized her hat, but her face looked like someone else’s; a dreamy face, expressionless, th
e lips parted as if she was talking in her sleep. ‘A kind of abstracted look’, said Barbetta, ‘Is it true that no one has ever drawn you before?’ He got her to remove her hat and told her to sit down and chat with Amelia. As they sat there looking at each other, they felt a great desire to burst out laughing. The artist went on covering more sheets of paper. Amelia signed to Ginia, telling her to forget she was posing.

  ‘Abstracted’, repeated Barbetta, looking at her from the side. ‘One would say that the virgin profile is not yet resolved into a definite form’. Ginia asked Amelia if she was not going to pose too and Amelia slowly replied, ‘You’re his discovery today. He will certainly hang on to you’.

  While they were talking, Ginia asked her if they could see the drawings he had done of her on previous occasions. Then Amelia rose and looked out a portfolio at the back of the room. She opened it on her knees, saying, ‘Have a look!’ Ginia turned over several sheets; at the fourth or fifth, she was in a cold sweat. She did not dare to say anything, feeling the grey eyes of the man behind her. Amelia, too, was looking at her expectantly, and said finally, ‘Do you like them?’

  Ginia raised her head, forcing a smile, ‘I don’t recognize you’, she said. She proceeded to turn them over, one by one. By the time she had finished, she was more composed. After all Amelia was there in front of her, with her clothes on and smiling.