A Quiet Place in the Country Page #3

I have never known a girl like that.

And she was sensitive, too.

In fact, I still carry these.

These pictures. Look.

They're always with me.

How did it begin?

Nobody, nobody would ever believe me.

It was summertime.

I was walking down a country road

just like this one.

It was during the war.

I heard a car behind me.

I didn't pay too much attention to it at first,

although there weren't

many cars around at that time.

She used to take it whenever she could

without her mother knowing.

She would drive around

at strange hours. Just drive.

Later, I found out why.

Anyway, as I was walking along,

i heard this car behind me.

It never occurred to me

that the young countess was in it.

But then...

Then I realized it was her, Wanda.

- I opened the door and I saw that...

- What?

That she was naked.

Incredible!

I've kept reliving that time ever since.

We met in so many places.

In her house, on country roads,

in my house, in the car,

by day, by night, over and over.

We were like two crazy people,

set apart from the real world.

She had other men, too.

But how do you know that?

Tell me.

- Bressan.

- The caretaker? Attilio?

- Yes. Attilio.

- Who else?

There were many. There was doimo,

who runs the hardware store,

even one of my brothers, a policeman,

a German corporal.

But I didn't care about them.

You didn't care? Why not?

It was a sickness with her. That's all.

I would have married her anyway.

Has Wanda relatives?

Yes, her mother in venice.

She's rotting away in her palace.

What do you want?

I'm looking for Mrs. valier. Is she at home?

Countess valier.

Who are you?

- I'm a journalist. I want to talk to her.

- Who is it?

Come in where I can see you.

What is your name, young man?

Who are you?

Leonardo ferri.

Why are you so interested

in an old lady like me?

Come in, come in.

What do you want to know?

I'm a journalist. I'm writing an article

on venetian aristocracy.

That tells me nothing.

You are a very handsome young man.

Sit down, please.

- You want a drink?

- No, thank you.

Once they brought me champagne

from the country. Not anymore.

Now I live on charity.

They stole everything.

She was lovely, wasn't she?

Is this your daughter?

She must have been extraordinary.

They still talk about her in the country.

They do? Well, never mind.

Have you any other photos of her?

My daughter would have

liked you, young man.

Help me up.

I can barely walk these days.

All that remains of Wanda is here.

Look at them. Judge for yourself.

At 15, she was a grown woman.

Mature in body and mind.

She loved life and people.

She would run off to the country

whenever she could.

She was friendly with everybody

in the village, even the poorest boys.

People gossiped, but she didn't care.

Believe me, she was above all those things.

Open that box.

Don't go. Please, don't go.

Don't you want to keep

a poor, lonely old woman company?

Perhaps you are afraid.

Don't go, please stay a little while.

I never have anyone to talk to.

- You'll kill it like that.

- Better dead and red.

They're not that tough.

It'll cost a lot to replace.

I'll pay you for them. I like them like this.

The receipts came for your rent.

Tell me, why red?

What would you prefer?

Maybe black.

I'll paint a couple just for you.

Don't bother. Goodbye.

- Have you gone crazy? What are you doing?

- Why did you run off the other day?

What do you mean?

Admit it. You leave these flowers.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I didn't want to.

All right, 1 admit it.

It's me who puts the flowers there

from time to time.

What's wrong with that?

Exactly. So why all the mystery?

I wouldn't like the people in the village

to know about it.

They all gossip, dirty everything up.

I saw you this morning, for example,

talking to the butcher. I saw you.

By now, you know all the rumors

about Wanda. You know them.

No, I don't. I only know she was killed here.

In my arms.

She died in my arms, you know.

I've never been able to forget.

Just a minute.

Wait! Wait!

Wanda used to like it here.

She loved it. She loved the country.

She begged me to come here twice,

or even three or four times every day.

And she was 17?

You know when she began?

At 14 with a school teacher.

He'd been married for three weeks.

She used to come here

from venice, looking for me.

This house was abandoned.

She was a lot younger than I was,

but she taught me everything

about making love.

Everything.

Where did you make love?

In the house or outside?

No, she didn't like to do it outside.

I remember there was a small room.

It had a tiny window in it.

Where? Where is it?

Maybe this one.

I don't remember.

It's been such a long time.

Try. Try to remember.

This is it.

She really liked this place.

God knows why.

It's nice, like a little cave.

We made love here on the bare floor.

She liked to do it in strange ways.

But, look, you didn't notice anything?

Look, come here.

I'll show you.

You can see everything.

She watched us make love.

The countess. That crazy old woman.

- You knew she was watching?

- Not then.

But she did, yes. Wanda.

With her, the floor became soft as velvet.

The room grew bigger, and time passed,

and you didn't notice it.

How did she die?

How did she die?

I'm going to tell you something

that I've never told anyone.

That day, I didn't have a date with Wanda.

I came to see her anyway.

She had been trying to avoid me

for some time.

I was jealous, naturally.

I knew she had other men.

I got into the habit of coming here

and sitting behind the glass.

I'd sit here for hours waiting,

waiting to spy on her.

That day, she brought a German soldier.

Knowing she made love

to others was one thing,

but seeing her, hearing her,

right in front of me, near enough to touch,

I couldn't stand that.

She helped me clean up the blood.

We carried him out to a field

and buried him.

She didn't seem at all concerned

by what had happened.

Later, that afternoon,

by the wall, just standing there,

looking innocent as she always did,

indifferent, combing her hair.

At that moment, I heard the airplane.

Wanda! Wanda!

Her hair was so long

and so soft.

Today she would be 40 years old.

Forty years old.

That's what the flowers are for.

- What are you doing?

- Just making the bed.

Leave it. It doesn't matter.

Leonardo.

Leonardo.

Help. Help, help, help.

What are you looking for?

I was hoping to find you

with another woman.

- Why hoping?

- Because then I'd have a good reason

for shouting at someone,

accusing someone.

As it is, I don't know who my enemy is.

I don't know who I'm fighting.

I can't find an explanation.

What is there to explain?

Nothing. There is nothing to be explained.

What am I doing wrong?

I'm too officious?

I'm always talking about money?

- Who's this?

- A girl who died here in this house.

You are ambitious, and you're right.

You are the positive side to me.

What I mean is, you're a realist,

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