After these words we remained silent for a moment. Then she said: 'If what you say is true. . then we must change everything.'
'What d'you mean?'
'We mustn't make love any more until you've finished your story. . Then, when you've finished, we'll begin again.'
I must confess that I was immediately tempted to accept this strange and slightly ridiculous proposal. My obsession was still strong and it made me forget how much selfishness, and therefore falseness, had been at the root of it. But I repressed this first impulse and, embracing her, said: 'You love me and this proposal of yours is the greatest proof of your love that you could give me. . But the fact that you've made it is enough for me. Let's go on loving each other and not think about anything else.'
'No, no,' she said imperiously, pushing me away, 'that's what we must do — now that you've told me.'
'Are you offended?'
'Really, Silvio, why should I be offended? I truly want you to write that story, that's all. . Don't be silly.' And as she said this, as if to underline the affectionate quality of her insistence, she put her arms round me.
We went on like this for a little, I defending myself and she insisting, imperious, inflexible. Finally I said: 'All right, I'll try. . it may be that all this isn't true and that I'm simply a person without any literary talent.'
'That isn't true, Silvio, and you know it.'
'All right then,' I concluded with an effort, 'as you like. . But remember it was you who wished it.'