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Peggy Lane #8 Peggy's Roman Holiday

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Peggy Lane #8 Peggy's Roman Holiday by Virginia Hughes.
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  • PEGGYS ROMAN HOLIDAY

    Fresh from her holiday on the French Riviera, Peggy

    Lane plunges eagerly into a new rolethis time in LAquila,

    an Italian film being made in Rome by the celebrated and

    unpredictable director, Renato Bellini. What will it be like,

    the young actress wonders with some trepidation, working

    in a foreign language, not one word of which she knows?

    Will the Italian cast like her? Will her work satisfy Bellini?

    When Peggy's plane lands at the Rome airport, at least

    one of her questions is answered immediately. Bellinis son

    Paolo, who has been sent to meet Peggy, takes one look and

    declares he is hopelessly in love with her. Before Peggy can

    get her breath back after this startling statement, Paolo has

    whizzed her across Rome in his high-powered sports car to a

    press party being held in the apartment of Iolanda Conti, the

    star of LAquila. Here Peggy meets the director and the cast,

    including Enzo Moro, Italys No. 1 box office draw; and

    here she immediately senses tension and mystery.

    By the time LAquila is finished, Peggy has had more

    than her share of excitement and drama, both on and off the

    screen. And she has learnedthe hard waya priceless

    lesson in human understanding.

  • Peggy Lane Theater Stories

    PEGGY FINDS THE THEATER

    PEGGY PLAYS OFF-BROADWAY

    PEGGY GOES STRAW HAT

    PEGGY ON THE ROAD

    PEGGY GOES HOLLYWOOD

    PEGGYS LONDON DEBUT

    PEGGY PLAYS PARIS

    PEGGYS ROMAN HOLIDAY

  • PEGGY LANE THEATER STORIES

    Peggys

    Roman Holiday

    By VIRGINIA HUGHES

    Illustrated by SERGIO LEONE

    GROSSET & DUNLAP Publishers New York

  • COPYRIGHT BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC. 1965

    LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NO. 65-21850

    PUBLISHED SIMULTANEOUSLY IN CANADA

    ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

    PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  • CONTENTS

    1 LEONARDO DA VINCI INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT 1

    2 THE ETERNAL CITY 13

    3 BOX OFFICE IDOL 26

    4 SIGNORA SACCHETTI 50

    5 CINECITT! 45

    6 LATIN COURTSHIP 57

    7 FIRST REHEARSAL 70

    8 THE DOUBLE PLOTS THE THING 80

    9 FLAUNT THE DEVIL 91

    10 INTRUDER ON THE SET 100

    11 UNWELCOME ADVICE 109

    12 PERSIMMONS, POMEGRANATES, AND A BLOOD

    ORANGE 116

    13 SICILIAN SECRET 127

    14 THE PRIME MINISTER 136

    15 MACHIAVELLIAN MACHINATIONS 146

    16 ROLES AND THEIR REASONS 153

    17 A FINE ITALIAN HAND 162

    18 TAKE A TRIP 173

    19 MEANS TO AN END 179

    20 AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTEROOPS! 189

  • 1

    I

    Leonardo da Vinci

    International Airport

    Through the heavy safety glass of the plane window,

    the cloudless sky appeared as azure blue as the

    Mediterranean Sea below. Peggy Lane suppressed a

    shiver of excitement: soon it would be a Roman sky

    above her.

    Her holiday on the French Riviera, after the

    successful performance of the Penthouse Company

    in Paris, had been a delightful interlude and the first

    real vacation for the young actress since shed left

    her home in Rockport, Wisconsin, to begin the

    serious pursuit of her career in New York almost

    two years ago. Yet, it hadnt been all play and no

    work on the Cte dAzure, or Peggy wouldnt be on

    her way to Rome.

    Remembering, Peggy laughed softly. She was

    unaware that her laughter was the perfect

    complement to her youthful good looks, which

    already were drawing admiring glances from her

    fellow passengers. They noted appreciatively the

  • 2

    sheen of short chestnut curls, the sparkle in hazel

    eyes fringed by thick dark lashes, the radiance of

    clear young skin tanned to a pale copper color.

    Peggy laughed again, her soft, wide mouth

    curving upward. Youll never be blas, Peggy Lane,

    she mentally scolded herself. Youre as excited now

    as you were the day you left Rockport for New

    York. Yet, here you are, practically a veteran of the

    international movie set. What would it be likeher

    thoughts veered abruptlyworking on a film in a

    foreign language? Making a movie was challenge

    enough, but to do it in Italian, not one word of which

    she knew This time she actually shivered, but in

    trepidation. Oh dear. Perhaps it had been a mistake

    to accept this part after all. At Madame Rodiers

    sun-swept villa, where Peggy had been a house

    guest for the past month, everything had seemed

    simple. The villa, a summer meeting place for

    artists, writers, and political figures, all friends of its

    hostess, had for three hectic days in August housed

    the brilliant, temperamental Renato Bellini, the

    internationally known Italian movie director famed

    for his realistic, penetrating studies of the problems

    of modern man.

    Before his arrival, dinner conversation had

    centered more than once around the movie on which

    he currently was working. Titled LAquilaThe

    Eagleit was reputedly a complete departure from

  • 3

    all his past efforts. For the first time, Bellini was

    filming a historical drama. His era was the late

    eighteenth century and his subject the Napoleonic

    campaign in Italy. Not much more was known about

    the story, but the international press had speculated

    for more than a year about the relationship of this

    film to Bellinis past achievements. No one believed

    his public statements that it was a quiet film about

    a small episode in the history of Italy; they knew

    Bellini and his gift for understatement too well.

    Besides, no one believed that Enzo Moro, one of

    Italys most versatile actors and a top box office

    attraction everywhere, would play the lead in an

    insignificant film. Finally, the press had predicted

    that a new star would be born with the release of

    LAquila. Iolanda Conti, the unknown whom Bellini

    had chosen to play the lead, hadnt been officially

    introduced to the public yet, but stories and pictures

    exciting curiosity leaked occasionally. The

    consensus was that the movie would be a milestone

    in Italian cinema historyeither a colossal success

    or a colossal failure.

    Peggy hadnt met Bellini the evening he arrived

    at Madame Rodiers. She had first seen him the next

    morning on the south patio, the spot favored by

    Randy Brewster for work. RandyRandolph Clark

    Brewsterhad asked Peggy to read one of the parts

    in the play Randy was writing. Absorbed in her task,

  • 4

    Peggy hadnt heard Bellini approach nor been aware

    of his existence until he spoke.

    Are you English or American? American, I

    think. He had answered his own question. Have

    you ever been to Italy? Have you done any film

    work?

    He had seemed depressed when Peggy confirmed

    that she was American, but he brightened when she

    said shed never been to Italy, but that she had

    played a featured role in Homestead.

    Almost in passing, Bellini had offered Peggy a

    small part in LAquila, stipulating, however, that

    Peggy must learn or memorizehe didnt care

    whichsufficient Italian so that she could speak her

    lines in the same language as the other actors.

    At the time, Peggy had jumped at the chance to

    work in an Italian film and especially LAquila, and

    at the opportunity to visit Rome without depleting

    her already scanty bank account. Both Randy and

    May Berriman had encouraged Peggy to take the

    part, and Peggy respected their professional advice.

    Randy, one of off-Broadways most promising

    young playwrights, had authored the play in which

    both Peggy and May had acted in Paris. May was

    long retired and now owner of the Gramercy Arms,

    the theatrical rooming house where Peggy lived in

    New York. But May had accepted the Paris

    assignment as a favor to Randy when the star of the

  • 5

    show became ill. The most gifted actress with whom

    Peggy ever had worked, May had scored a personal

    triumph in Paris. Peggy, trusting their judgments as

    well as her own inclinations, hadnt hesitated to sign

    the contract with Bellini. But she was having second

    thoughts. What if she couldnt learn Italian? How

    difficult would it be to work with actors with whom

    she couldnt talk? Would they resent a foreigner?

    Stop worrying, Peggy scolded herself. Youre

    getting upset over nothing. Its only that youve got

    another debarkation ahead of you, and you know

    how confusing everything can be for the first few

    hours in a new countrycustoms in a foreign

    language, getting from the airport into Rome,

    finding the Sacchettis. With a sigh, Peggy

    remembered her first few hours in Paris, where

    everything, literally everything, had gone wrong,

    and she had ended in tears.

    Well, at least she wouldnt have to go through

    that again, she comforted herself. She had a place to

    stay. Madame Rodier had arranged that Peggy was

    to be a guest of the Sacchettis, Italian friends of

    Madame Rodier. And she wouldnt have to cope

    with taxi drivers who didnt speak English either,

    she thought, remembering the second of the two

    telegrams in her handbag. Sent by Bellini, it had

    arrived at the Nice airport just as Peggy was

    boarding the plane, and it advised her that someone

  • 6

    from the Bellini organization would meet her at the

    Rome airport.

    Peggy opened her handbag and took out the other

    telegram. She read it again:

    Fall in love with Rome, but not with any

    Romans. Enjoy your role of international

    movie starlet, but remember youre a

    serious actress, and I have the option on

    your future. Randy.

    Peggy smiled at the last lines, because they were

    so typically Randy. As a serious playwright, he felt

    little affinity with movies or moviemakers, although,

    when cornered in an argument, he would concede

    that any number of films had made important

    contributions to the dramatic and visual arts. The

    last bit about the option on her future puzzled

    Peggybut in a pleasing way. There was no

    understanding between her and Randy, butwell,

    she did like him better than anyone else she knew.

    And she had not yet been offered a part in the new

    play Randy was writing, although she dutifully had

    read lines for him all during her holiday. It was so

    like Randy to be cryptic and make the audience

    work to understand his meaning.

    With a start, Peggy saw that the air hostess was

    beckoning to her to fasten her seat belt. Rome!

  • 7

    Eagerly, as her fingers mechanically snapped the

    belt into position, Peggy peered out the window,

    seeking her first glimpse of the Eternal City. Instead,

    not far below, she caught the outlines of Leonardo

    da Vinci International Airport.

    The landing had been smooth, and customs had

    been pure pleasure, with what seemed like thirty

    attentive young Italian customs officers all assuring

    her in perfect English that she neednt bother to

    open her suitcases if she had nothing to declare. The

    customs officers even had been solicitous about her

    transportation into the city, and looked disappointed

    when she told them that she was to be met by a

    representative of her company.

    Peggy paced a step forward, then back, in the

    large waiting room. Shed been told that Italian men

    were the most attentive and helpful in Europe, but

    she hadnt expected anything quite like the scene

    shed just been through. She had the definite

    impression that any one of the thirtywell, there

    really werent thirty, it just seemed like itwould

    have been happy to walk out on his job for the

    privilege of driving her into Rome. Only that

    couldnt be right. It must just be the way they

    behaved.

    But where was whoever it was who was supposed

    to meet her? It was becoming awkward standing in

  • 8

    the vast lobby of the international arrivals and

    departures building right under the eyes of the

    customs officers whom shed just told she was being

    met. It would be even more awkward to pick up her

    luggage and march off twenty paces, only to wait

    again therestill under the eyes of the customs

    officers. They were watching her! This was

    embarrassing.

    Miss Peggy Lane? Intense, dark eyes

    scrutinized her face, and for a second, Peggy felt

    almost drowned by black liquid velvet. Instinctively,

    she moved back.

    Dont be startled. Im Paolo Bellini, the speaker

    smoothly introduced himself. My father, as a favor,

    gave me the pleasure of greeting you. My father, he

    commented, frankly sweeping Peggy up and down

    with his eyes, has very good taste in actresses, as in

    all things. Already, I am in love with you, merely

    from his description. Now that I see you, my case is

    hopeless.

    I beg your pardon, Peggy said, moving back

    another step.

    You are offended? Paolo said quickly, moving

    back a step himself as if to reassure her. I forget

    you are American. It is charming, he added hastily,

    but it is different from Italian. I am Italian. We say

    what we feel, he announced dramatically. You are

    beautiful. I feel. So I say it. His eyes again became

  • 9

    liquid pools as he looked at her.

    Peggy laughed aloud. This tall, slender, finely

    bred youth with his expressive eyes and delicately

    chiseled featuresstill part boy, not yet a mature

    manmust be intentionally caricaturing a Latin

    lover to amuse her.

    You laugh, he said in a hurt tone. That is not

    polite. I declare my love, and you laugh. That is

    cruel.

    You cant be serious, Peggy pointed out.

    Nobody falls in love at first sight. Are you really

    Paolo Bellini? Can I believe that part?

    You have some experience in this matter of

    love? Paolo questioned with animation. This

    interests me, he said, taking her arm. Come. I

    want to hear of your experience in love. But I warn

    you, already I am jealous.

    Can we take my suitcases? Peggy said politely.

    Mah! Paolo threw up his hands in a gesture of

    self-exasperation. You are so lovely, you caused

    me to forget the suitcases. With awkward grace,

    Paolo collected the luggage.

    May I help? asked Peggy. Its a big building

    and a long walk.

    You like it? It pleases you? he questioned with

    the same animated pleasure that he had displayed

    earlier about Peggys appearance. It was built by

    Amedeo Luccichenti and Vincenzo Monaco, and its

  • 10

    been praised in architectural journals all over the

    world. The exterior is better than the interior, but

    while were here, notice, please, the attention to

    detail. Thats very Italian.

    It took Peggy a few seconds to realize that Paolo

    was discussing the building. Well, she thought, with

    wry amusement, here we go again. This time its

    architecture. Every European male shed met had

    had at least one pet subject on which he virtually

    was a walking encyclopedia. With Paolo, it was

    architecture.

    Let me call your attention to the floor plan,

    Paolo continued, and dont fail to observe that

    suspended mezzanine. But the facade is better. Its

    quite amusing, dont you think, to have such a

    modern building almost within sight of the ruins of

    Ostia Antica. That was built in the fourth century

    before the Christian eraalmost twenty-three

    hundred years ago. Ostia Antica is only a few

    kilometers away too. But, come, well look at the

    facade. Its very masculine, very virile, very Italian.

    He spoke eagerly as he strode purposefully toward

    the door. Abruptly, he stopped. Patienza! We have

    to go to a party. I almost forgot. Father is

    introducing Iolanda Conti to the press. We all have

    to attend to encourage her. You too, he said.

    Sensing Peggys unspoken question, he

    explained. Iolanda is the star of LAquila. Shes

  • 11

    Fathers new discovery. Shes very young, very

    beautiful, and very frightened.

    Can she act? Peggy asked with interest.

    Paolo smiled. No, he said, but its not

    important. No Italian can act. It doesnt matter.

    Thats why there is a director.

    Why do you say no Italian can act? Peggy was

    curious.

    What I meanPaolo explained patientlyis

    that every Italian is an actor. He acts all day, every

    day. His whole life is playing a part, or a series of

    parts. Its natural to him. He enjoys it. But since

    every Italian is an actor in life, no Italian needs to

    act in the drama or the cinema. Consequently, Italy

    doesnt produce great dramatic actors. Insteadhe

    grinned it produces interesting men.

    Peggy couldnt think of any answer, but Paolo

    didnt expect one.

    Now we have to go to the party. Prego, he said,

    stepping back for her to precede him. Its a bore,

    but necessary. Father has promised Iolanda. At first,

    she refused to meet the journalists and

    photographers at all for fear of her boy friend, but

    that is impossible for a star. Then Father promised

    that everyone would come to encourage her. As a

    result, we all must go. Paolo looked resigned and

    began walking toward the door, but in a few steps he

    cheered up as he had a new thought. We have time

  • 12

    to view the facade. I think youll like this facade.

    Notice in particular, the use of reinforced concrete,

    steel, glass, and . . .

  • 13

    II

    The Eternal City

    Paolo tucked a leopardskin lap robe about Peggy as

    she settled herself luxuriously against the white

    leather upholstery of the fire-engine red Niobe.

    While Paolo dwelt on the fine points of the facade,

    Peggy examined the Niobe, reputedly Italys fastest

    sports car. Peggy had seen them whizzing along the

    Riviera road, but shed never ridden in one.

    Its only a short drive, Paolo said, as he slid

    under the wheel. I think I have time to show you

    something interesting before we arrive at the party.

    You like this building? he inquired.

    Peggy nodded solemnly. It seemed to satisfy

    Paolo, for with a twist of the wrist, he set the car in

    motion, and backed it expertly out of the parking

    space. Have you a scarf? he inquired. For your

    hair? The wind can be quite strong. When Peggy

    replied negatively, he reached over to the glove

    compartment, opened it, and produced a green-and-

    white-patterned square of silk. Instead of handing it

  • 14

    to her, he laid it on her hair and began tying it under

    her chin as if she were a child. There, he said

    cheerfully. That should hold. You have lovely

    hair, he added.

    You were going to show me something? Peggy

    reminded him, not wanting the conversation to

    revert to the personal level.

    Yes, yes, Paolo said eagerly, gunning the

    accelerator. The big sports car responded, and Peggy

    had the impression the starting speed of the Niobe

    was fifty miles an hour. It wont take long, Paolo

    said, his voice almost lost in the wind as the car

    rushed down the road. Thats Leonardo, he said,

    waving at a statue as they flashed by it.

    Leonardo da Vinci? Peggy questioned. She

    looked back to catch a glimpse of a monumental

    statue.

    Its not interesting, Paolo said firmly. Ill

    show you something interesting. The car careened

    onto the main roadway, and Paolo, rather than

    slackening speed, accelerated again, passing two

    trucks, veering to his own lane once because of an

    oncoming car, then swerving to the left to pass a cart

    pulled by a small donkey. To Peggy, the road

    appeared too narrow for passing, and Paolos

    driving frightened her. She caught only brief views

    of the Roman countrysidegentle hills, umbrella

    pine trees, olive groves.

  • 15

    One minute only, Paolo called. Then we are

    on the Via Appia Antica. You know of it? he

    inquired hopefully. It is one of the most famous

    roads in the world. It was built by the old Romans,

    he shouted. It leads to Brindisi and the sea. It was

    the route to Greece in the ancient world. It also was

    the route of the triumphal returns of the conquering

    Roman legions. You like it? He had turned the car.

    Were driving on it? Peggy asked, aghast at the

    speed, the narrowness of the road, and the proximity

    of ancient brick walls to the roadway.

    Paolo nodded. Romans build well, he said

    proudly. This road has lasted a long time.

    Is it the same road? Peggy called. Or a new

    one on the old roadway?

    Paolo turned to grin at her, not slowing the

    automobile at all. In any car but this one, youd feel

    it, he advised. Its made of stone, not concrete.

    For a second, Peggy thrilled to the thought that

    Roman chariots once had raced where they were

    driving. Watch the road, she called, clutching the

    silk scarf as the wind tried to snatch it from her

    head.

    You are more interesting, said Paolo, his eyes

    on Peggy.

    What are we going to look at? Peggy said

    desperately.

    Oh, Paolo replied excitedly, again turning the

  • 16

    car, but this time slowing it a little as if the Niobe,

    too, needed a moment to anticipate the forthcoming

    pleasure, its quite lovely.

    They were driving now in what appeared to be a

    suburb, rather than the open country. Tall concrete,

    glass, and steel buildings, many of them designed

    with balconies, a number fronted by fountains, but

    all of them constructed with sleek, modernistic lines

    greeted Peggys eyes.

    Its E.U.R. said Paolo, as if that were sufficient

    explanation. He maneuvered the car through

    moderately heavy traffic, swerving once to miss two

    pedestrians who were strolling down the middle of

    the street, hesitated at a traffic control light, then

    raced around a circular turn to stop the car with a

    flourish before what looked to Peggy like an

    enormous glass bowl.

    You like it? Paolo asked nervously. Before

    Peggy could reply, he said, as if anticipating

    criticism, This one is better on the inside. He

    added reverently, It is a masterpiece by Pier Luigi

    Nervi.

    Peggy threw back her head and laughed. It was

    just too incongruous. She had come to Rome,

    ancient center of western civilization, one of the

    most venerable and hallowed metropolises in the

    world, and what had she seen? So far, shed viewed

    a sleek jet airport, the worlds fastest sports car, an

  • 17

    ultra-modern suburb, and now this gleaming glass

    bowl. It was too much!

    You dont like it. Paolo was offended.

    No, no Peggy tried to protest, but she was

    laughing too hard. She could feel the tears running

    down her cheeks, but still she couldnt check her

    laughter. Biting her lip, she made an effort to control

    herself. I like it, she finally was able to murmur,

    between subsiding gales of laughter.

    What is so amusing? Paolo demanded.

    Oh, said Peggy, weakly wiping her eyes, its

    only that I was expecting something very oldthe

    ruins of the Forum, the Coliseum, even St. Peters,

    but not this. Not this at all. Its soso American.

    Paolo smiled engagingly. I deliberately took a

    longer way here so that you could drive on the Via

    Appia Anticafor the contrast. Thats important in

    Rome, he instructed. Rome is the past and the

    present together, truly an eternal city, always with

    its past and always with a future. We didnt have

    time to see Ostia Antica, so I wanted you to see the

    old Roman road before we looked at this building.

    Dont be surprised at modern Rome. America is not

    the only country with great architects in the

    twentieth century, he said gently.

    Are you an architect? Peggy asked. It was her

    first chance to voice the question.

    A student, said Paolo, at the University of

  • 18

    Florence. With hard work, I am an architect. With

    good fortune, I am a great onelike Nervi. He

    nodded in the direction of the building.

    Florence, Peggy repeated, trying to remember

    her history. Michelangelo, she said.

    He belongs to Rome too, said Paolo. For

    Florence, the great architects were Arnolfo di

    Cambio, Giotto, Brunelleschi, Alberti, Michelozzo.

    But you know these things, he corrected himself.

    You are an American girl. You are educated.

    Come, Ill take you inside and show you Nervis

    beautiful dome.

    Suddenly, something clicked in Peggys mind.

    She remembered newspaper photographs and

    stories. Its the Olympic stadium? Her words were

    more statement than question.

    Yes, Paolo said happily. You would have

    recognized it immediately if youd seen the interior

    first. The dome is really beautiful. Its made of

    small-scale, lightly reinforced, prefabricated

    concrete elementsthats Nervis signature. In one

    great leap of one hundred meters, it spans all the

    seats! Its truly beautiful. Romans have always built

    beautiful domes. Ill show you.

    Jetliners, glass bowls, and modern Olympic

    games seemed worlds away from the tiny, narrow

    stone-paved street where Paolo parked the Niobe,

  • 19

    telling Peggy that theyd have to walk the remaining

    distance to Iolanda Contis apartment.

    Standing beside Paolo, Peggy looked about,

    almost not breathing because of the picture postcard

    beauty of the scene. The street was only a few

    blocks long, and was lined on three sides with

    mellow old buildings, ancient walls, and old-

    fashioned street lights.

    Itsits golden, Peggy exclaimed. All the

    houses are golden.

    Paolo smiled. Thats a special kind of stucco or

    plaster used to surface the outsides of houses. Its

    pale yellow when its fresh. Under the sun, it turns

    orange. Its very typical of Florencealthough you

    see it in Rome too.

    Peggy watched the streaks of sunlight on the

    golden walls, and Paolo watched Peggy.

    The sun on your hair turns it golden too, he said

    softly. Red hair. We dont see that often in Italy.

    Its chestnut, Peggy protested.

    You were going to tell me about love, he said,

    once again trying to drown her in his eyes.

    We should go to the party.

    No. We should speak of love. This moment is

    for love. In Italy, we live only for the moment. We

    dont worry about the future. Each moment has its

    own life, and we do not permit it to escape us. Each

    moment is important, and this moment is for love.

  • 20

    Your father expects

    My father is a man. He will understand. No

    Italian gives importance to anything before love. We

    live for love and by love. Love is life. Paolos

    voice was so soft, so musical that he might have

    been reciting lines from poetry.

    Desperately, Peggy sought a distraction. What

    period is that one? she asked, pointing to a building

    on her right.

    Paolo examined it. Its an adaptation of

    Bramantethe Renaissance. Notice the rhythmic

    bays and

    Is this a Renaissance section of Rome? Peggy

    asked, her eyes wide. In her excitement, she began

    to walk away from the car, and Paolo followed her.

    Its an old section, but not quite that old, he

    told her. Were not far from the Spanish Steps. But

    I think we havent time to see them now. Later,

    well see everything. Now, were on the Via

    Margutta. Its a favorite quarter for painters, poets,

    actors. Theyve lived here for several hundred years.

    Your poets, Byron and Keats, lived near the Spanish

    Steps.

    Theyre English, said Peggy.

    Paolo ignored her reply. Notice the shops, he

    instructed. Theyre small, but elegantand very,

    very expensive. Dont spend your money here. If

    you want to shop, I can show you good places not so

  • 21

    expensive.

    Peggy observed the careful fashion in which new

    shops had been created in stately old buildings as

    well as the exquisite merchandise on display. She

    knew she could never afford the period furnishings,

    exotic carpets, paintings, objects of art, but she did

    enjoy seeing them. They passed a fountain; its two

    stone masks, one happy, the other sad, both spouted

    water. Peggy commented joyfully, but, for once,

    Paolo was at a loss.

    Rome has so many fountains that no one could

    know the history of each one, he apologized.

    They walked a bit farther. Were here, he

    announced, stopping in front of a tall stuccoed wall

    that enclosed a garden and a three-story house,

    which might once have been a palace. He opened

    the gate, and Peggy walked ahead of him. The

    three-story design is typical of the Renaissance. The

    ground floor once was an enclosed arcade

    surrounding the interior court, but its been made

    into apartments now. Patienza!

    Its still lovely, said Peggy.

    Not as lovely as you.

    The party, Peggy prompted.

    What a bore! Perhaps we can leave early. Lets

    hope Iolandas boy friend doesnt come.

    The dcor of Iolanda Contis apartment was as

    unexpected as everything in Rome. Peggy, without

  • 22

    really thinking about it, had been prepared for the

    aged gentility of the hotel where she had stayed in

    Paris or the shabby elegance of the old Gramercy

    Park mansions in New York.

    Instead, they entered a perfectly cared for formal

    hallway with a cool gray-and-white marble floor,

    statue busts lining the walls, and ceiling decoration

    in a style unfamiliar to Peggy. Seeing her interest in

    the frescoes, Paolo volunteered, Style of Pompeii.

    Italians have been copying those vines and

    grotesques since Pompeii was unearthed.

    Its so modern, said Peggy.

    Its so old, he replied.

    A heavy oak door at the end of the hallway

    opened momentarily to discharge a maid in cap and

    apron, and Peggy heard the familiar din of a large

    party. Paolo heard it too.

    Good, he said. Weve missed the press

    conference. Theyve finished the questions and the

    photographs and are eating.

    Leaving their wraps with the maid, the two

    walked into an enormous room so crowded with

    guests that Peggy could get no exact idea of its size

    or appearance. Is it a ballroom? she asked.

    Once, Paolo said, smiling at her. Now, its

    everything. For dining, for entertaining, for relaxing.

    Iolanda, I think, has this whole floor. But the rooms

    are large, and there arent manya kitchen, a

  • 23

    bedroom and sitting room, a room for the maid.

    Apartments in Rome can be quite expensive, he

    added. This is a good apartment for Rome.

    Its a good apartment for any place, said Peggy.

    Stay with me, Paolo ordered, clutching her arm,

    as they were swept into the crowd by the movement

    of guests toward the door. Well try to find Father

    or Iolanda, he explained, as he began elbowing his

    way through the throng. With an occasional stop to

    exchange greetings, to introduce Peggy, and once to

    disengage her jacket sleeve when it became

    entangled in a photographers camera, they finally

    reached a haven formed by a grouping of sofas.

    Ciao, said Paolo. This is Peggy Lane, he

    added in English. Several men rose to their feet, but

    Peggy didnt see Renato Bellini. Instead, her eyes

    fastened on a young girl.

    Iolanda Conti was breathtakingly, dazzlingly

    beautiful. Never had Peggy been in the presence of

    such perfection of physical appearance. Most

    beautiful women have a minor flaw or two to

    reassure the world that they too are mortals. But not

    Iolanda Conti. She easily could have been

    sculptured by the hand that created the Medici

    Venus, except that she was so patently a creature of

    flesh and blood. Her velvet brown eyes might have

    been captured by a painter, but had nothing to do

    with the marble workers art. And her coloring

  • 24

    who would believe it? Those dark eyes, honey and

    cream skin, and blondeyes, it was natural!

    blonde hair. Iolanda wore a severely tailored pale

    beige silk dress. Any adornment, any jewelry, any

    makeup would have detracted from her own

    exquisite perfection, and she used none.

    Gazing at her, Peggy realized she was staring.

    Guiltily, she turned away, and saw that she hadnt

    been the only person almost mesmerized by

    Iolandas beauty. Almost everyone in the immediate

    vicinity was either staring at Iolanda or attempting

    not to do it. Abruptly, Peggy saw that one pair of

    eyes was fastened on her, not Iolanda. She

    recognized their owner. Enzo Moro! He, of course,

    was the star of LAquila. Tall, muscular, his dark

    hair beginning to be tinged with gray, Enzo Moro

    was as celebrated for his romantic conquests as for

    the acting trophies that he had earned in a series of

    daring, brutally honest films, at least one of which

    had been banned in Boston. His piercing hazel eyes

    seemed to transfix Peggy, while the expression on

    his ruggedly handsome face suggested that it was

    Peggy who had transfixed him. Confused, Peggy

    averted her eyesand discovered that Iolanda Conti

    too had observed Enzo Moros interest.

    Paolo, oblivious to the triangular exchange,

    finished his introduction of Iolanda and Peggy.

    Peggy didnt understand Iolandas reply, which

  • 25

    was in Italian, but she offered her hand as she

    looked hopefully to Paolo for a translation. Iolanda

    ignored the outstretched hand, as she spoke again in

    perfect, though lightly accented English. You dont

    speak Italian? How can you work in an Italian

    film?

    Im to teach her Italian, Paolo said importantly.

    Ill volunteer too, said Enzo.

    Iolandes response was to flash Peggy a look that,

    if emotions were lethal, would have struck Peggy

    dead on the spot.

  • 26

    III

    Box Office Idol

    The uncomfortable silence was broken by the arrival

    of a fifth person who gracefully shouldered his way

    to the little group, and by his very presence

    dominated it. Unlike the other men, who all were

    dressed in business suits and ties, the newcomer

    wore an open-throat shirt and a cashmere V-neck

    sweater. Thin, of medium height, almost ugly,

    Director Renato Bellini generated an aura of energy

    and authority that had nothing to do with his

    appearance or his words. Instead, it came from a

    source so deep inside him that its workings were

    mysterious and impenetrable. The Siamese cat in his

    arms, which even in repose did not conceal a

    capacity for lightning movement, might have been

    his alter egoor his medium.

    Youre here, Peggy, he said, no note of interest

    in his tone. His lack of emotion was the perfect

    antidote for the personality clash he must have

    witnessed. Welcome to Rome, he added without

  • 27

    warmth. I think you havent met Poohsey. He

    nodded his head, indicating that he was introducing

    the cat.

    Poohsey gave Peggy one disdainful look, then

    yawned leisurely.

    Iolanda laughed merrily, a gay tinkling laugh that

    infectiously invited company, the laughter of others.

    Hes an English cat, she said happily. See how he

    behaves. No politeness.

    Paolo shot Iolanda a reproving frown, but Peggy,

    not accustomed to being mistaken for an English

    girl, said innocently, How can he be English? Hes

    Siamese.

    This cat has a name in English, Enzo explained,

    smiling.

    Poohseycat, said Renato Bellini, stroking the

    Siamese.

    Spontaneously, Peggy burst into laughter.

    Pussycat, she said, catching onto the Italian

    pronunciation of the English word.

    Yes, Bellini said blandly, Poohseycat. He

    continued to caress his pet.

    You introduce the cat, Enzo said sulkily, but

    you fail to introduce me. Never mind, Ill introduce

    myself. Welcome to Rome, Peggy Lane. He spoke

    warmly, offering his hand.

    Hello, Peggy said a little shyly, accepting the

    outstretched hand, a move that proved to be a

  • 28

  • 29

    mistake, as Enzo immediately captured not only her

    hand, but most of her arm too.

    Im Enzo Moro, he said, looking directly into

    her eyes. Weve been awaiting you with a great

    deal of interest. Renato has taken more than a year

    to find an actress for your part, so we all attend your

    coming with great curiosity. I see that he has not

    made a mistake.

    Youre kind, Peggy said. She was slightly

    flustered; she didnt know how to retrieve her hand

    without being rude. Youre also modest, she

    added, remembering that he had introduced himself

    as if she might not recognize him.

    At her words, Enzo threw back his head, and his

    resonant laughter rang through the room. You are

    the first woman who accuses me of modesty, he

    told her. It is a great compliment. Most often, they

    tell me that I am the prototype for an egotist. I

    suspect they are correct, he said with charming

    candor, his warm eyes never leaving Peggys, but it

    is pleasant to hear that I am modest. Come, he said,

    attempting to lead Peggy from the group, you must

    be thirsty. Well find something for you to drink.

    Paolo seized Peggys other arm, and as Iolanda

    frowned and Renato Bellini boredly stroked the cat,

    Peggy felt caught in a tug-of-war. Peggy would

    prefer something to eat, Paolo told Enzo, as each

    man continued to clutch an arm, each urging her to

  • 30

    go with him.

    Im neither hungry nor thirsty, Peggy lied

    politely.

    Enzo was first to give way. Anything that

    pleases you, he said pleasantly. Roman food, he

    told her, will perhaps please you later. You must

    give me the chance to introduce you to Roman

    cuisine. We could have dinner? he said hopefully.

    Yes, perhaps, Peggy said distantly. She felt

    Paolos renewed grip on her arm.

    Youll be at work in the morning? Renato

    Bellini asked as if that had been the subject of the

    entire discussion. Poohsey purred in his masters

    arms.

    Tomorrow? Peggy said dazedly. Shed thought

    shed have a day or two to get settled. What time?

    Eight oclock is time enough, said Bellini.

    Ill drive you, Paolo volunteered.

    Enzos protest was interrupted by the senior

    Bellinis words. Would you do that, Paolo? Thats

    a good son.

    Its official, Paolo happily told Peggy. Father

    agrees that I am to escort you in Rome.

    Peggy barely had time to think that no one had

    asked her about her wishes in the matter, because

    both Enzo and Iolanda were complaining.

    Nobody escorts me to work, Iolanda

    murmured.

  • 31

    Driving Peggy to work is not the same thing

    The remainder of Enzos protest was cut short by a

    scuffling commotion at the door to the far end of the

    room.

    Va via. Va via! Peggy heard the maid calling

    fiercely.

    Filippo! Iolande shrieked, her hysterical cry

    only partly drowned by the noise of the party.

    Turning to face her, Peggy saw that the Italian

    girls eyes were filled with stark terror.

    Immediately, Renato Bellini was beside her,

    soothing her. Peggy couldnt understand the Italian

    words, but his intention was unmistakable. He had

    moved as quickly as a cat to position himself

    between the girl and the door.

    Peggy looked toward the entry. A passageway

    was opening, as the guests, who initially had

    crowded toward the shouts, fell back. Peggy was

    able to make out that four persons were engaged in

    the dispute.

    Instead of thethe assassin?for which the

    drama had prepared her, Peggy saw a pretty teenage

    girl break free of the restraining arm of the maid.

    Enzo, she called, rushing toward him waving an

    autograph book.

    My public, Enzo said with feigned resignation.

    Careful. Careful, he added, speaking to Iolanda.

    All the journalists are watching. Do you want them

  • 32

    to learn about Filippo?

    Iolanda struggled for composure. It took only a

    few seconds. Before the teenager was halfway

    across the room, Iolanda made a gracious gesture of

    welcome to her.

    Flashbulbs exploded as Enzo, taking his cue from

    Iolanda, waved to the partycrashers. He hesitated a

    moment, then with a charmingand highly

    photogenic bowhe invited Iolanda to join him, As

    the two moved forward, Iolanda continued to smile

    that radiant, welcoming smile, but Peggy noticed

    that each time a flashbulb popped, the Italian girl

    almost winced.

    Renato Bellini saw the flashbulbs too. The two

    stars hadnt taken three steps before the director

    interposed himself between them.

    Whats happening? Peggy questioned Paolo.

    The young girls want Enzo to sign their books,

    he said.

    Yes, Peggy said impatiently. I mean, what else

    is happening?

    OhPaolo spoke disinterestedlyits against

    Fathers strategy to present Iolanda ashe

    hesitated, seeking wordsas under the influence of

    Enzo, he finished. Shes too young, too innocent.

    Enzo has too much experience. Hes Latin. Hes had

    many girl friends. Its good for his reputation to

    have another girl friend. It is not good for Iolanda to

  • 33

    be this girl friend. My father is presenting her as a

    girl very fresh, very young. Enzo ishe snapped

    his fingerstoo experienced. Paolo was silent a

    moment. Besides, the journalists are going to learn

    of the other matter sometime. It cant be concealed

    forever. Then it would look very bad for Iolanda.

    She would cut a brutta figura. To abandon love for

    art is one thing. To abandon a fianc for another

    man! That could look terrible!

    What are you talking about? Peggy demanded.

    I dont understand anything. As she spoke, she

    looked directly at Paolo and saw that he was

    watching her with the indulgent amusement of an

    adult trying to teach a small child how to do

    something simplelike tie a shoelace.

    What you need to understand, Paolo said in a

    paternal tone, is that Enzo is not good for young

    girls. This is the lesson you must take from this

    afternoons small drama. He is dangerous. Very

    dangerous. Especially for inexperienced young girls.

    And I think, Peggy Lane, that you are not

    experienced. You speak as if you had had

    experience with love, but I think it is only talk, and

    that you understand nothing. Never mind, he said

    comfortingly, Ill teach you.

    Speechless, Peggy looked blankly at Paolo. It was

    a mistake. His dark eyes once more were limpid

    pools, enveloping her.

  • 34

    IV

    Signora Sacchetti

    The drive through Romes evening rush hour traffic

    struck Peggy as one more sequence in a surrealistic

    nightmare. In this episode, the popping flashbulbs of

    the cameras were replaced by glaring headlights,

    and the surge and flow of party guests by the rush

    and charge of thousands of small cars jockeying for

    position in overcrowded, too narrow streets. Peggy

    saw three minor accidents and a dozen loud vocal

    exchanges between drivers, or drivers and

    pedestrians, before Paolo shot the Niobe across the

    Ponte Victor Emmanuel II and into the relatively

    quieter Trastevere section of Rome.

    Outlined in the distance was the dome of St.

    Peters Cathedral. Peggy felt a thrill seeing it, just as

    she had been thrilled at the idea that she, Peggy

    Lane, was crossing the Tiber, but she was too tired

    to capitalize on opportunity. Declining Paolos offer

    of a sightseeing tour, she asked to be taken directly

    to the Sacchetti home.

  • 35

    Sometime when theres less traffic? Paolo

    suggested.

    Peggy assented gratefully.

    Do you trust my driving? he asked. The

    question came at the very moment that he

    jackrabbited the Niobe away from a stop light.

    Peggy shook her head. No, she declared.

    Paolo laughed. You are an honest girl, he

    commented. Really, its quite safe. However, he

    didnt seem displeased that Peggy had found the

    drive exciting.

    What is the name of the family where you are

    staying? Father told me, when he gave me the

    address, but in the noise . . .

    Sacchetti.

    Paolo whistled, then huddled over the wheel.

    Signora Sacchetti, he murmured. Shes

    formidable. How do you know her?

    I dont, said Peggy. But I take it that you do,

    she added uneasily.

    Paolo straightened in his seat. All Rome knows

    the signora, he advised. You know the family?

    One of the daughters?

    No, said Peggy. I dont know any of them, or

    anything about them. I take it from what you say

    that I should, but I dont. Madame Rodiershes a

    friend in Franceasked Signora Sacchetti toto

    extend her hospitality. Look after me, I guess is

  • 36

    what I mean.

    Mamma mia! Paolo exploded. I dont envy

    you. Then, as if remembering he already had

    declared a romantic interest in Peggy, he added,

    Its good. The signora will guard you like a dragon.

    Youll be well protected.

    Protected? echoed Peggy.

    She is formidable, Paolo repeated. Im glad

    you warned me before we arrived, so that I have

    time to prepare myself to appear as a serious young

    person.

    What is she like? Peggy asked, her own

    curiosity about her hostess aroused for the first time.

    Paolo searched for words. Shes a Roman

    matron, he said. If you knew Italy, youd know

    what that means. Since you dont, Ill try to think of

    a way to tell you. He stopped. She has a fine

    hand, he said at last.

    What is that? Peggy demanded.

    Oh, my poor innocent. Paolo almost moaned.

    You dont know anything. How can I explain the

    meaning of a fine Italian hand? Ah! The affair of the

    marriage.

    Marriage?

    Its simple, said Paolo. Signora Sacchetti has

    four daughtersonly one of them pretty, the other

    three ugly. Everyone pitied her because this is a real

    problemexcept they didnt pity too much, because

  • 37

    she is Signora Sacchetti, and they know her.

    Everyone is right, he added. The daughters are all

    married, and married very well. For the second girl,

    the truly ugly one, it was a little difficult. But

    Signora Sacchetti arranged everything. The girls

    husband is a Milan manufacturervery rich.

    Originally, he wanted to marry a girl from a

    significant familylike the Sacchettis. But Signora

    Sacchetti never would permit one of her daughters

    to be married only for the family connection. That

    would be too crude, too lacking in finesse. Paolo

    stopped speaking to gesture at the driver of an

    automobile which had come perilously close to the

    Niobe. He did it as a matter of habit, not because it

    interested him at the moment.

    Go on, Peggy urged.

    Well, the twothe girl and the boydeveloped

    affection for one another. But since the boy was

    from Milan and in manufacturing, Signora Sacchetti

    pretended to oppose the match. Romans are quite

    proud, Paolo said. The boy was afraid he was

    going to lose the girl, for whom he now felt a great

    deal of emotion, although she is quite ugly. Perhaps

    he loves her because she is ugly, and no one else

    cared for her, who knows? Anyway, he realized

    Signora Sacchetti was a formidable obstacle. There

    seemed to be only one way to counter her

    oppositionto produce creditable ancestors as proof

  • 38

    that he was not marrying the girl for her family

    connection, which, of course, was his initial interest

    in the girl. He had his family genealogy examined

    and Mamma mia!his family originally came from

    Verona, and he can claim ancestry with the House of

    Cantonithe Princes of Cantoni. The descent is a

    little vague, but quite good enough for everyone to

    say that the girl made a fine catch because of the

    boys family connection. That is much better for the

    girl and for Signora Sacchetti than if everyone says

    the girl made a good catch because of the boys

    money. In the endPaolo spoke cheerfullythe

    boy and the girl married for love. Signora Sacchetti

    assured that by opposing the match. But the gossips,

    who are cynics and never believe in love if social or

    financial interests are involved, credit Signora

    Sacchetti with marrying an ugly daughter into a rich

    and significant family, in short, a triumph for

    Signora Sacchetti. The signora, of course, assured

    her daughters happiness by being certain that the

    boy loved the girl. That is the fine Italian hand, said

    Paolo.

    Do people still arrange marriages in Italy?

    Peggy asked wonderingly.

    This time Paolo did laugh at her. Call it what

    you like, he said. The girl and the boy think they

    arranged everything, and believe they were very

    clever in outwitting Signora Sacchetti.

  • 39

    Peggy, who had been engrossed in Paolos tale,

    once more gave her attention to Rome as the Niobe

    approached the slopes of a forested hill, Monte

    Mario. Tall umbrella pines were silhouetted against

    an amber and gray sky, gnarled cypresses stretched

    their fingers toward the vanishing light, a young

    couple, hand in hand, strolled silently.

    Paolo turned the car, and drove it through an

    opened gateway onto a short private road. Its nice

    here, he said. You are a fortunate girl, except for

    Signora Sacchetti. But I shouldnt prejudice you.

    Looking back, Peggy saw that the gateway was

    supported by a high brick wall, which, behind a

    screen of trees, extended roughly parallel with the

    roadway. As the car made a final curving turn,

    Peggy saw the house. It looked like a Renaissance

    palace! Before she could observe details, Paolo

    began an architects critique.

    Modern, but style of the Late Renaissance.

    Notice, theres an extra floorcalled an attic. That

    open arcade to the front is definitely Late

    Renaissance. Earlier, the colonnades were used only

    in the enclosed interior courts. This is an adaptation,

    but quite well done, although I dont approve, he

    said severely. Each age should find its own

    expression in a suitable style and not slavishly copy

    the past.

    What is it made of? Peggy asked, eyeing the

  • 40

    huge building blocks, each of which swelled toward

    its center.

    You have a good eye, Paolo approved. Thats

    Florentine embossed stone. The rough appearance is

    called rustication. Sometime, Ill show you the

    Medici Palace in Florence. Its like thisbut old.

    He parked the car, and turned to her. I shouldnt

    look at houses, because I forget to look at you.

    Signora Sacchetti will be expecting Peggy

    began.

    At the mention of that name, Paolo sat bolt

    upright. Ill take you to her, he said quickly.

    Minutes later, when Peggy actually met her

    hostess, Signora Sacchetti didnt impress her as at

    all formidable. Slender, almost fragile, she had

    classic features, the fine dark eyes Peggy had

    anticipated, and in addition, a delicacy of manner

    and movement that made Peggy feel awkward. She

    must have been a beautiful girl, Peggy thought, then

    instantly reversed her decision: Signora Sacchetti

    probably never had been so attractive as now when

    she gave the appearance of having been a great

    beauty in her youth.

    She received them informally in the little garden

    created in the enclosed court, and like all the Italians

    Peggy had met so far, the signora spoke English,

    greeting Peggy pleasantly, then turning almost

    fiercely, if such a gentle appearing creature could be

  • 41

    fierce, to Paolo. Hastily, he introduced himself,

    giving a concise and complete account of the

    afternoons activities, beginning with his fathers

    orders to meet Peggy at the airport. Signora

    Sacchetti watched him closely.

    Miss Lane, as my guest, is under my protection.

    Im certain you have been helpful. Her tone,

    however, belied her words, and almost accused

    Paolo of misconduct.

    With the signoras permission, Paolo said

    politely, my father has instructed me to take Miss

    Lane to Cinecitt in the morning. I also, he added,

    and the addition took some courage under the

    circumstances, am to have the responsibility of

    instructing Miss Lane in Italian.

    Your father should have consulted me about

    this, the signora said sharply.

    I assure you, Signora, Paolo said quickly, I am

    a serious person.

    The words apparently had a special meaning for

    the signora, because her tone softened as she replied:

    In that case, you have my permission to call for

    Miss Lane in the morning. But only for Cinecitt,

    she warned.

    Thank you, murmured Paolo, and with a brief

    farewell to the two of them, he withdrew.

    He is a nice boy, the signora said

    conversationally. She took Peggys arm as if she and

  • 42

    Peggy were old, dear friends.

    He is nice, Peggy agreed warmly.

    At that, the signora looked mournful. Already he

    impresses you, she murmured. It is as I feared.

    Renato Bellini should have consulted me about these

    arrangements. Let me caution you, dear Peggy, that

    Renato Bellini is a Bohemian. The family is good

    very good. But Renato Bellini is a Bohemian. I do

    not know how he has reared the boy. Paolo as yet

    has no reputation. But it was quite irresponsible of

    Renato Bellini to permit Paolo to meet you at the

    airport without my permission. I fear the boy is a

    Bohemian too. Let me caution you to be careful.

    She spoke as an affectionate older woman advising a

    younger, less experienced girl, a role that neatly

    fitted the situationexcept that Peggy had met her

    only minutes earlier.

    Possibly because of Paolos story, Peggy resented

    the assumed intimacy. She groped for a reply.

    Strange, she said, earlier, Paolo warned me to be

    careful of Enzo Moro. Do all Italians mistrust one

    another? Instantly, she regretted her words. They

    sounded so ungracious, so rude, in this gentle garden

    to this aristocratic woman, who, after all, had only

    offered friendship. Peggy felt ashamed. If she

    werent so tired, shed never have said anything

    sodirect.

    Signora Sacchetti studied her, betraying no

  • 43

    emotion. Peggy, she said, you are an American,

    and you are very candid. I am told that Americans

    are candid. I will be candid too.

    Despite her words, Peggy sensed that Signora

    Sacchetti wasnt preparing to be candid, that she,

    indeed, wasnt capable of candor, but instead, had

    decided to adopt another role.

    You are an actress, said the signora, her tone

    implying that the occupation suggested many things,

    and Madame Rodier has sent you to me. In Rome,

    an actress, with discretion, can become anything.

    She can aspire to anything. Once even, an actress

    was Empress of Rome. Oh, yesshe nodded

    sagelythe Empress Theodora. The Emperor

    Justinian saw her, loved her, and married her!

    Signora Sacchettis gesticulating fingers reached a

    crescendo at the word married. Dramatically, she

    paused. We will be very good friends now that we

    have had this little talk and understand one another.

    It is refreshing to be candid, she said pleasantly.

    Peggy knew that she was dismissed. Speechless,

    she permitted herself to be led toward the house by a

    maid. In her own way, Signora Sacchetti had been

    candid. It was quite clear that the Roman matron

    thought Peggy had been sent to use the signoras

    good offices in contracting a brilliant marriage.

    Recalling Paolos description of the method by

    which Signora Sacchetti had maneuvered her own

  • 44

    daughter into falling in love, Peggy felt a chill of

    apprehension.

  • 45

    V

    Cinecitt!

    An unfamiliar bird was singing outside Peggys

    window when she awoke the next morning. Was it a

    nightingale? Shed never heard one before. Jumping

    from the big, canopied bed, she hastened to the

    window. Sunlight almost blinded her as she flung

    open the shutter, and for a second the bird stopped

    singing. Even when it resumed, Peggy couldnt spot

    it in the trees, but her disappointment was short-

    lived because of the vista before her. A parterre

    garden, its geometric designs formed by

    immaculately clipped flowers and shrubs, was

    spread out on the adjacent hillside. She hadnt

    expected anything like this in such a big city as

    Romebut then Rome was the unexpected.

    Peggys feet were chilly. A marble floor can be

    just plain cold. Her mental debate over whether or

    not to get her slippers was resolved in favor of

    climbing back into bed. From this sanctuary, Peggy

    surveyed her room. The white of the marble floor

  • 46

    was repeated in the white plaster walls and in the

    white drapery of the beds canopy. Gothic

    furniturea wardrobe, a writing table, a chest

    sparsely furnished the room. Peggy admired the

    modernistic effect created by the massive, ivory-

    inlaid, black-finish pieces against the white setting.

    Three splashes of dark green, the velvet upholstery

    of her easy chairs, furnished a bright note beside the

    big Roman-arch windows.

    It looks like a movie set, Peggy decided. Youre

    really acting in a movie all the time youve been in

    Rome, and you just didnt know it. Where else but

    in a movie would anyone assemble the cast of

    characters shed met: Paolo Bellini, Enzo Moro,

    Renato Bellini, Iolanda Conti, Signora Sacchetti. No

    one in Rockport, Wisconsin, would ever believe that

    they existed in real lifethat is, as part of a

    Rockportites or Peggys life.

    Paolo? He was interesting; there was no denying

    that, but But Peggy didnt know how to evaluate

    him, because a boy who declared he was in love at

    first sight was outside her experience. Iolanda? Was

    she real? Was that terror Peggy had seen in her eyes

    real, or just another scene for the cameras? Renato

    Bellini took it seriously; hed moved instantly to

    shield her fromfrom what? Why was she

    frightened? Come to think of it, why was a young

    girl like Iolanda living alone in that enormous

  • 47

    apartment? Didnt she have any family or friends?

    Enzo Moro? Enzo, at least, seemed real, not that

    Peggy had encountered anyone like him in the past.

    But shed read enough about him and his romantic

    exploits, which were always in the headlines, to be

    able to accept that he existed. The problem with

    newspaper stories was that though they warned you

    of his character, they didnt provide any resistance

    against the charm of his physical presence. Paolo

    said he was dangerous. Peggy believed it. Dont go

    developing a taste for dangerous males at this stage

    of the game, she instructed herself. Still, she wasnt

    sorry that shed be working with him.

    Work! She hadnt given a thought to her part

    since shed arrived in Rome. She didnt know what

    shed be expected to do, or when, or even the name

    of the character shed be portraying. An English

    ingnue in a film about the Napoleonic wars was all

    Renato Bellini had told her. That wasnt much to go

    on. Well, today shed find out everything. What

    would work with that collection of personalities be

    like? Not easy, Peggy knew.

    And living with Signora Sacchetti? Peggy frankly

    admitted that the signora intimidated her. Peggy had

    gone down to dinner last evening determined to find

    a way to clarify her position, but the presence of

    Signore Sacchetti and of Elisa, who was the

    signoras personal secretary, along with Signora

  • 48

    Sacchettis own skill in editing the subjects for table

    conversation had made any personal statement on

    Peggys part impossible.

    Peggy shook her head. What a day it had been!

    And today, her first day at Cinecitt, Italys

    counterpart to Hollywood, loomed before her. She

    checked her watch. Shed better get dressed. The

    maid would be bringing her breakfast any minute

    now, and Paolo was due to call for her in less than

    an hour.

    Signora Sacchettis talk with Paolo had had a

    salutary effect. Throughout the long drive, he

    confined his conversation to the sights of Rome,

    although at each intersection where he had to stop

    the Niobe, he did stare long and deeply into Peggys

    eyes. Peggy would have liked to question him about

    the drama at Iolandas party, but stung by his

    remarks that she knew nothing about life, she held

    her tongue. She tried once or twice to sound him out

    about the film, but he either had no information or

    else was too absorbed in his favorite topic,

    architecture, to discuss the movie.

    Were here, he said, pointing diagonally.

    Cinecitt!

    Peggy stood up in the car. Cinecitt! Shed heard

    about it for ages. In Hollywood, film colony

    veterans loved to drop names of places theyd

  • 49

    worked around the world. Cinecitt, implying as it

    did that one had made an Italian film, was a prize

    name to slip into the conversation. Now Peggy

    would work here. She strained for a better look.

    High walls, stuccoed in sepia with cream trim,

    surrounded the enormous enclosure, which Peggy

    could see, even from the highway, was composed of

    dozens of one-, two-, and three-story bungalows.

    They were all built in a modern adaptation of the

    ancient style with Roman-arch openings, balanced

    facades, and smooth stucco finish on exterior walls.

    Who owns Cinecitt? Peggy asked, as Paolo

    swung the car into the guarded entryway, spoke to

    one of the attendants, and began driving down the

    private road.

    The Italian government, he replied. The

    government leases the production facilitiessound

    stages, projection rooms, all the equipmentto

    private producers.

    The government!

    Paolo smiled. The government doesnt have any

    voice in selecting the manuscripts, or in actually

    making the films. Thats all done by private

    companies.

    How does it work? Peggy asked.

    About like in America, I think, with the

    exception of leasing the production facilities from

    the government rather than owning them yourself or

  • 50

    leasing them from another private company. In Italy,

    the producer decides he wants to film a script, so he

    employs the people he needs, including a production

    manager and an architect. The production manager

    decides on the number of sound stages needed, the

    architect does the stage designs. Then the producer

    brings this information to the general director of

    Cinecitt, who quotes a price for the facilities. The

    producer signs a contract, and thats it. Only since

    the contract specifies the number of days the sound

    stages have been leased, Italian directors do work on

    fairly tight schedules.

    Peggy laughed. Implying that American

    directors dont. Thats not true. Only sometimes,

    they go over the schedules.

    Paolo smiled at her. It happens in Italy too, he

    agreed. Only not with Father. Besides, at this time

    of year, if a director goes over, hes in danger of

    losing his sound stages. Early fall is the busiest

    season here. Italian film makers like to shoot

    outdoorsto have the natural light, and the

    authentic backgrounds of Italy. The lights best in

    summerso by fall, everyone is rushing to finish

    his film and shooting the last scenes indoors on the

    sound stages.

    Peggy listened with interest. Who employs the

    technical crews? she asked.

    The producer, replied Paolo. Actors, makeup

  • 51

    men, lightmen, cameramen, they all work for the

    producer.

    It seems odd to me, Peggy admitted. I mean

    the idea of the government owning a movie studio.

    Paolo expertly swung the Niobe between two

    elephants and an actor costumed as a clown. Down

    the road, Peggy spotted a big circus tent, and across

    from it, a Greek temple. Outdoor sound stages, she

    mentally identified them, feeling right at home.

    Paolo, however, continued to speak of Cinecitt:

    Its not a new idea. As far back as the days of the

    Roman Republic, the government owned the

    production facilitiesthe theaters. Romes greatest

    ancient playwrightsPlautus, Terence, Seneca

    were all produced under government auspices, as

    part of religious festivals at that.

    I know, said Peggy, who had studied about the

    old Roman dramas in her theater history course at

    New York Drama Academy.

    Did you know that you owe your career to

    Rome? Paolo asked mischievously.

    How do you mean? Peggy demanded.

    Women werent allowed on the Greek stage

    where drama originated. Men took their roles. As a

    matter of fact, there were no actresses in ancient

    Romes legitimate theaters either, only actors. But

    the earliest record of actresses does come from the

    old Roman erafrom the mime troupes of strolling

  • 52

    players. The female roles were played by women

    the first known time.

    If I ever knew that, Peggy said, Id forgotten

    it. Thanks for reminding me. Its one more reason to

    love Rome.

    Do you love Rome? Paolo demanded, parking

    the car adjacent to one of the sepia-colored

    bungalows.

    I know Im going to, said Peggy.

    And Romans? Paolo begged.

    Suddenly, remembering the wording of Randys

    telegram, Peggy no longer was amused by what she

    had decided was Paolos role. A combination of the

    roles of Paolo and Signora Sacchetti spelled trouble.

    Peggy would have enough problems just doing her

    job well; she didnt need any personal complications

    in her life. Tell me about the buildings at

    Cinecitt, she said.

    Paolo accepted the rebuff well. What do you

    want to know?

    I dont know, said Peggy. It reminds me of

    Hollywood. I knowjust by lookingthat that

    building is a sound stage, and the one over there is

    an even larger one, and that far one is a giant-size

    one.

    You are exactly right, Paolo replied. Would

    you like to drive around before we go in?

    Do we have time?

  • 53

    No, he admitted, but we can do it anyway.

    Fathers not here today.

    What an attitude! Peggy reproved.

    Its Italian, Paolo told her cheerfully.

    Where am I supposed to be? Peggy asked.

    You go to makeup first, said Paolo. Luigi

    wants to fit your wig, and decide on facial makeup.

    Then, I think you have costume fittings.

    Okay, lets go to makeup.

    Were here, said Paolo. The dressing rooms

    are in the same building as this sound stage.

    And makeup? Peggy asked.

    Right here with you, said Paolo.

    Wardrobe? said Peggy, already knowing the

    answer.

    Yes. Theyll bring your costumes to your

    dressing room. Fathers already ordered everything.

    I think Im going to like working in Italy,

    Peggy observed.

    Truly? Paolo demanded eagerly, seizing her

    hand. I want you to be happy in Italy.

    Ill be happy as soon as Im certain I can do my

    part well, she said gently, withdrawing her hand.

    Dont worry, Paolo assured her. Father will

    see to that. Its nothing for you to concern yourself

    about. Ill begin teaching you your lines this

    afternoon, and Father will tell you how to speak

    them before he starts filming. Theres nothing to it.

  • 54

    Ive made a movie, Peggy said. Its a bit more

    challenging than you make it sound.

    You havent made a movie with Father. Paolo

    spoke with finality. You have nothing to worry

    about.

    Youre going to teach me my lines? Peggy

    asked, the import of his words just then registering

    with her.

    When makeup and wardrobe are through. That

    shouldnt take too long. Then we can have the rest

    of the day to work on Italian.

    You must know about my part, Peggy said

    happily.

    Paolo shook his head. I only have the lines for

    the scenes scheduled for tomorrow. Father said there

    was no reason to confuse you with a script you cant

    read.

    Look, Paolo, Peggy said slowly, I dont like to

    complain, but I dont like that. I know from working

    in Hollywood that movie scripts are less detailed

    than stage scripts. But at least in Hollywood, I did

    have an entire script. That was difficult enough to

    work from. How can I work with lines for only a

    few scenes? I wont know how the scenes fit into the

    overall story. Its impossible.

    Thats not anything for you to worry about,

    Paolo said reassuringly. Father will tell you what to

    do.

  • 55

    Peggy shook her head. I cant work that way.

    Paolo looked perplexed. When he spoke, there

    was a note of pleading in his voice. I dont want

    you to be unhappy, but I cant think what to tell you

    for today, because Fathers not here. Theyve been

    filming on location near Turin for months, and

    shooting isnt scheduled to begin here until

    tomorrow. For today, just to please me, promise you

    wont worry. Everything will work out tomorrow.

    Youll see.

    Somehow, although Peggy believed she was

    right, she promised.

    Paolo flashed her a happy smile.

    One more question, said Peggy.

    What now? he asked indulgently.

    You said theyve been on location. How much

    of the story is already filmed?

    Its almost finished.

    Almost finished! Peggy had known that she had

    a small part, but she hadnt realized it was that

    insignificant.

    Paolo didnt understand her protest. Yes, he

    said, Father was becoming desperate about your

    part when he found you last month. Youll be

    working every minute.

    Their conversation was interrupted by a loud

    voice, speaking in anger. Looking toward the sound,

    Peggy spotted Iolanda Conti hastily closing the door

  • 56

    of her car, as a dark-haired, stockily built youth

    rushed toward her waving a newspaper. It was his

    voice that had carried across the parking lot. Iolanda

    moved as if to dart back into the automobile, then

    thought better of it, and began to run toward the

    bungalow. In a few steps, the youth, now shouting

    wildly, caught up with her, clutched her arm, and

    began shaking the newspaper at her.

    Iolanda, struggling to free herself, cried out.

    Three well-dressed men stood near her car, but

    not one made a move to help her.

    O-o-o-h! Iolanda cried out in pain as the

    waving newspaper struck her across the face.

    Momentarily the youth stepped back, releasing his

    hold on her arm. Seizing her chance, Iolanda fled,

    reaching the safety of the bungalow, where she

    slammed the door behind her.

  • 57

    VI

    Latin Courtship

    It was past one oclock when Peggy, her head

    aching from the unaccustomed weight of the ornate

    wig that she had worn all through her costume

    fitting, returned to her dressing room after a final

    session with Luigi, the makeup artist who would be

    in charge of her appearance for LAquila. Small,

    quiet, intense, Luigi had worked with a deft touch.

    Peggy, who at first had watched him with a critical

    professional eye, had relaxed, then forced herself

    back to attention to learn what she could from his

    special genius in applying eye makeup. Now, the

    wig was back in Luigis custody, and her first

    costume, a gorgeous creation in yards of green satin

    and cream lace, was in the hands of the

    seamstresses.

    Oh! she exclaimed, as she opened the door to

    her dressing room. Hello, Elisa, she said. Peggy

    hadnt expected to see Signora Sacchettis plump,

    fortyish, social secretary at Cinecitt.

  • 58

    Ciao, Peggy, said Elisa. Signora Sacchetti

    sent me to see if there is anything you want. Elisas

    dark eyes twinkled as she spoke, their amusement

    belying her words.

    Still, Peggy didnt know why she had come.

    That was kind of the signora, she said, but unless

    you can conjure up a dinner, theres nothing I want.

    Paolo has gone to arrange for lunch, said Elisa.

    Ill sit with you while you eat and during your

    Italian lesson. From a huge raffia bag, she

    produced yarn, knitting needles, and the first portion

    of what looked to be the back of a sweater.

    Its really not necessary, said Peggy, perplexed.

    Signora Sacchetti thought it would be best,

    Elisa said comfortably, her knitting needles

    beginning to click.

    Still puzzled, but too tired to think about it

    further, Peggy sank into an easy chair and kicked off

    her shoes.

    The clicking stopped, then resumed. Ill help

    you with your shoes before Paolo returns.

    What! Peggy exclaimed.

    Ill help you with your shoes before Paolo

    returns.

    Oh, thank you, said Peggy, bending down to

    replace the offending objects on her feet. Through

    her fatigue, she stifled a laugh. That was the

    explanation! Elisa had been dispatched by the

  • 59

    signora to serve as a chaperon. Signora Sacchetti,

    with an unerring sixth sense, had known that Peggy

    would be occupied and surrounded by people during

    the morning, but that she and Paolo were to work

    alone during the afternoon. It was amusing. Peggy

    knew she ought to resent the signoras interference,

    but in one way, she was grateful. Paolo and his role

    could be a bit difficult.

    There was a knock on the door, and at Elisas

    command, it opened to admit Paolo, who was

    followed by a white-jacketed waiter carrying a tray.

    Giving Peggy a bright smile, Paolo took charge of

    the serving of lunch, instructing the waiter to place

    the tray on a collapsible serving surface attached to

    the side of Peggys chair. He appropriated a similar

    chair for himself.

    Were having American lunch, Paolo

    announced. Roast beef, green salad, potatoes, one

    other vegetableI chose eggplant, I hope you like

    itand ice cream. Very light. Very American. Is it

    satisfactory? he asked eagerly. Im having the

    same, he confided, as the waiter disappeared.

    Peggy smiled, suppressing a laugh that she knew

    would offend Paolo. On her tray was at least half a

    pound of rare roast beef, a mountain of delicately

    diced hashed brown potatoes, a hot dish composed

    of baked spinach and several other leafy

    vegetablesbut still called a salad by Paolo

  • 60

    eggplant marvelously smothered in cheese and

    tomato sauce, and a compote of ice cream. The idea

    that this was a light lunch struck Peggy as ludicrous.

    It was more like a banquet. Where did you learn

    about Americans? she asked.

    Paolo shrugged. Americans travel a great deal,

    he said. They come to Italyto Rome, all the time.

    Then, Italians travel a great deal too. Were a nation

    of travelers. Youve heard of the Italians, Marco

    Polo and Christopher Columbus? he teased.

    Today, Italians still go to America, and when they

    come home, they tell what theyve seen. The

    American wish for a light lunch is well known in

    Italy. We dont agree. Lunch is for eating. But

    today, I take a light lunch with you.

    What would plain lunch be? Peggy asked.

    Italian lunch?

    Peggy nodded.

    Pasta, he said. Always pasta. At night, we

    dont take pasta. At night, its always minestra

    soup. But, for lunch, you begin with pasta

    spaghetti, noodles, macaroni, rice, whatever you

    like. Except, if you are having complete lunch, you

    begin with antipasti. The antipasti, the pasta, then

    the meat, the vegetables, the saladhe ticked the

    courses off on his fingersthen after the salad,

    perhaps a dolcea dessert, you call itthen fruit.

    Thats lunch.

  • 61

    Youre certain you wont be hungry with light

    lunch? Peggy asked mischievously.

    No, Paolo assured her. Besides, he added in a

    spirit of mischief himself, I prepared myself today

    by taking an American breakfast!

    Peggy smothered her laughter. Did it seem

    completely barbaric to you? she asked. Having

    spent the summer in France, she knew that Latins

    shudder at the thought of eating anything but coffee

    and rolls early in the morning.

    Does Italian lunch sound barbaric to you?

    Paolo countered.

    What did you have for breakfast? Peggy asked.

    Eggs, said Paolo. Then ham. The cook was

    annoyed. She had planned the ham for the antipasti

    at lunch. But I took it for breakfast. Then orange

    juice and toast with butter, he said triumphantly. I

    took coffee and rolls too, he admitted. I think its

    permitted to have coffee and rolls at an American

    breakfast if you take the eggs, ham, orange juice,

    and toast too.

    Peggy was frankly laughing now, and Paolo

    joined her. Where did you learn English? Peggy

    asked. You speak it so well. Almost everyone

    does, she added thoughtfully.

    In school, Paolo answered. We all study either

    French or English in school. Were preparing to be

    good travelers, he said, laughing. Then, I practice

  • 62

    English conversation with Americans whenever I

    can. But I need to go to America to speak really

    well.

    The waiter returned with a second tray, and

    Peggy looked inquiring at Paolo as the waiter served

    him.

    I took lunch early with the signora, Elisa

    assured Peggy. The waiter, having deposited cups,

    saucers, and spoons for coffee, which Paolo would

    pour later, left. Elisa continued to knit.

    Peggy took her first bite of the roast beef,

    pronounced it excellent, then, as if revived by the

    meat, remembered that she wanted to ask Paolo

    about the scene theyd witnessed that morning. The

    arrival of the wardrobe mistress and her attendants

    had cut short Peggys earlier questions. Peggy eyed

    Elisa uneasily but decided her curiosity was stronger

    than her fear of what Elisa might report to Signora

    Sacchetti.

    Paolo, she said tentatively, deliberately eating

    to give her question less importance, who was that

    man with Iolanda this morning? The one who

    frightened her?

    Filippo Carlaccini, said Paolo, busily cutting

    his beef. When we saw them, I was certain it must

    be he. I ask, and, yes, it was.

    Filippo! The name Iolanda had cried out at the

    party. Who was Filippo? Peggy voiced the question.

  • 63

    Her boy friend, Paolo said nonchalantly. He

    nibbled his salad, and made a face.

    Her boy friend! Shes scared to death of him,

    Peggy protested.

    Paolo shrugged. She has reason to be.

    In the silence, Peggy could hear the click, click,

    click of Elisas knitting needles. Finally, Peggy

    spoke. I know I keep saying this, but I really dont

    understand. If hes her boy friend, why is she so

    frightened of him, and why did he behave so badly?

    And why didnt anybody help her?

    Nobody likes to interfere in a matter of that

    sort, Paolo said.

    What kind of a matter is it? Peggy demanded,

    thoroughly exasperated.

    Her tone alerted Paolo, who for the first time

    gave his whole-hearted attention to Peggy rather

    than his lunch. He studied her gravely, trying to

    puzzle out what it was that was unclear to her in his

    explanation.

    Why is she so frightened? Peggy repeated.

    Because hes her boy friend, Paolo said

    helplessly.

    Paolo, Peggy said carefully, food customs

    differ in different countries. Weve been discussing

    it. I think other customs do too. In America, no girl

    has a boy friend she doesnt want to see, and who

    shouts, and frightens her.

  • 64

    Possibly in America, these things are better

    arranged.

    Peggy shook her head. I dont understand, she

    repeated. If she doesnt want to see him, why

    doesnt she just tell him to leave her alone.

    Hes her boy friend, Paolo said again. Theyre

    engaged.

    Engaged!

    Yes. To be married. Only Iolanda doesnt want

    to marry him.

    It was the first clue that Paolo had given her that

    made any sense at all, and it didnt make complete

    sense. If she doesnt want to marry him, why

    doesnt she just tell him and break the engagement?

    Paolo looked at her wonderingly. These things

    are arranged so easily in America? he asked.

    It is not so different in America, Elisa,

    surprisingly, entered the conversation for the first

    time. I spent two years in America, with the family

    of my brotherin New Jersey. Many things are

    different in America. But I think that in America an

    engagement cannot be broken without a scandal. I

    recall one girl in New Jerseyan American girl.

    Her fianc decided at the last minutethey were

    almost at the altarthat he didnt wish to marry. It

    was a big scandal. Everyone talked of it. The family

    sent the girl on a tripto Europe. She was gone for

    a long time. Then, when she returned, the family

  • 65

    sent her away to school. Life was impossible for her

    in the town.

    You see, Paolo commented, customs are not

    so different.

    I cant find any connection between the two

    situations, said Peggy. The girl in New Jersey was

    unfortunate. Im sure she suffered a great deal. Still,

    since the man didnt want to marry, there was no

    wedding.

    Iolanda wont many Filippo, Paolo said. He

    began to eat again as if the subject had been

    exhausted.

    It was Elisa, who, seeing Peggys perplexity,

    attempted further explanation. It is very bad in any

    country when an engagement is broken, she said

    kindly. It is possibly a little more serious in Italy.

    You must remember, Filippo is a man, not a young

    girl. His pride, his feeling of manhood, is involved.

    He is Sicilian. They are hot-blooded. They have a

    long tradition of revenge when injury is done.

    Iolanda has injured Filippo. He cuts a brutta figura

    with his friends.

    Brutta figura? questioned Peggy.

    There is no precise translation, said Elisa,

    turning a row. It means that he appears ridiculous

    among his friends. His girl friend has departed from

    her home and separated from her family in order to

    avoid him. He is in a difficult position. He appears

  • 66

  • 67

    ridiculous.

    To make matters worse, said Paolo, she is not

    living quietly, so that everything can in time be

    forgotten. She has become an actress, and her

    picture is in all the newspapers. Everyone is talking.

    Father is careful not to allow it to appear that there is

    another man in her lifelike Enzo, for example.

    Nevertheless, Filippo suspects. He is enraged by

    jealousy and his own knowledge that he cuts a

    brutta figura. Today, because of the newspapers, he

    came to protest in person to Iolanda. We all knew it

    would happen. He would have come before, but

    Turin is a great distance. Rome is not so far.

    What about Iolandas family? Peggy asked.

    Couldnt her father talk to Filippo?

    Even Elisa looked puzzled. She has left the

    family, Elisa repeated.

    You mean she ran away from home? Peggy


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