Desire

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From The Decameron (1353)

  But having given a great deal of thought to devising some means of consorting with her lover, and being under constant pressure from Ruberto himself to find a way out of this impasse, she eventually hit upon the following expedient: since her bedroom overlooked the street, and she had frequently had occasion to observe that Arriguccio, once he was asleep, slept like a log, she would ask Ruberto to come to the front door towards midnight and she would go and let him in. In this way she could spend some time in his arms whilst her husband was soundly asleep. But so that she would know that he had come, she contrived, in such a way that nobody would notice, to dangle a length of string from the bedroom window with its end almost touching the ground; at its other end, the string ran along the floor of the room to the bed, finishing up under the bedclothes, and as soon as she was in bed, she tied it to her big toe. Ruberto was duly informed beforehand, and she further directed him that, on arriving at the house, he was to give the string a tug, and if her husband was asleep, she would release it and go downstairs to let him in; but if her husband was still awake, she would hold on to the string and haul it in, to let him know that he was to go away. This arrangement suited Ruberto down to the ground, and he made regular use of it, sometimes being able to see her and sometimes not. They continued to use this ingenious device until one night, when the lady was asleep, Arriguccio happened to stretch his leg down the bed and catch his foot in the string. Having groped for it with his hand and discovered that it was attached to the lady’s toe, he said to himself: ‘This must clearly be some devilish trick or other.’ On observing that the string passed out by the window, he was quite convinced of it; so he gently detached it from the lady’s toe, tied it to his own, and waited, alert and vigilant, to see what would happen. Shortly afterwards, Ruberto came along and jerked the string as usual, giving Arriguccio a start. He had not tied it on properly, and so Ruberto, who had given it a good tug and was left with the string in his hands, assumed that he was to wait, which is what in fact he did.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘As for your love, or that you should belong to me, these are matters towards which, as I said before, I am utterly indifferent. Go on belonging, if you can, to the man you belonged to before, whom I now love as much as I formerly hated, considering the pretty pass to which you have been brought on his account. You women are always falling in love with younger men, and yearning for them to love you in return, because of their fresher complexions and darker beards, their jaunty gait, their dancing and their jousting; but when a man is properly mature, he has put such matters as these behind him, and knows a thing or two that these young fellows have yet to learn. ‘Moreover, because a young man will cover more miles in a single day, he seems to you a better rider. But whereas I admit that he will shake your skin-coat 4 with greater vigour, the older man, being more experienced, has a better idea of where the fleas are lurking. Besides, a portion that is small, but delicately flavoured, is infinitely preferable to a larger one that has no taste at all. And a hard gallop will tire and weaken a man, however young, whilst a gentle trot, though it may bring him somewhat later to the inn, will at least ensure that he is still in good fettle on arrival. ‘Senseless creatures that you are, you fail to perceive how much evil may lie concealed beneath their handsome outward appearance. A young man is never content with one woman, but desires as many as he sets his eyes upon, thinking himself worthy of them all; hence his love can never be stable, as you can now bear witness all too clearly for yourself. Besides, they feel they have a right to be pampered and worshipped by their women, and take an enormous pride in boasting of their conquests – a failing which has caused many a woman to land in the arms of the friars, who keep their lips sealed about such matters. When you claim that your maid and I are the only people who know of your secret love, you are sadly mistaken. You deceive yourself if that is what you believe, for the people of the district where he lives, as well as of your own, talk about nothing else; but the person most closely involved is invariably the last to hear of these things. And you should also remember that young men will steal from you, whereas older men will give you presents. ‘And so, having made a bad choice, you may remain his to whom you gave yourself, and leave me, whom you spurned, to another; for I have found a lady who is far more worthy of my love, and understands me better than you ever did.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘I learned about it this morning from a poor old woman, who often comes to see me because she spent a long time with our father in Palermo and Perugia; or at least she tells me she did. And if it weren’t for the fact that I thought it more decorous for you to come to my own house than for me to visit you in another’s, I would have called to see you hours ago.’ After saying this, she began to inquire about all of his relatives, naming each one individually, and Andreuccio, allowing himself to be led even further up the garden path, told her how they all were. As it was a very hot evening, and they had been talking together for some little time, she sent for Greek wine3 and sweetmeats and saw that Andreuccio was given something to drink, after which he got up to go, saying it was time for supper. She refused to allow him to do any such thing: on the contrary, pretending to be deeply hurt, she flung her arms round his neck, saying: ‘Alas, now I am quite certain how little you care for me! What else am I to think, when you are with a sister you have never seen before, in her own house, where you should have stayed from the moment you arrived, and now you want to leave me to go and have supper at some inn! Really! You are going to sup with me. My husband is not at home, for which I am very sorry, but though I am merely a woman, I am quite capable of supplying you with a little hospitality.’ Andreuccio, not knowing how else to reply, said: ‘I care for you just as much as any man should care for his sister, but if I don’t go back they will be waiting for me all evening to turn up for supper, and I shall cut a bad figure.’ Whereupon she said: ‘Good heavens, as if I didn’t have anyone in the house who could be sent to tell them not to expect you! But you would be doing a much greater kindness, and no more than your duty, if you were to send word to your companions that they should come and have supper here. And then afterwards, if you still insist on leaving, you could all go back to the inn together.’

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  As they arrived at the top floor, she started to unbutton her coat. He leapt to help her. Expertly removing it, he said, “My name is Rupert Pole.” His exhaled breath shot a current from her neck down between her thighs. They entered the party together and found Hazel, who had grown more plump since Anaïs had last seen her, and blowsier. Hazel tilted her cigarette holder upward as she took in Rupert standing next to Anaïs. When he went to get drinks, Anaïs quickly made disclaimers to Hazel. “Hugo wished he could be here. He’s in Cuba on business for another week.” Rupert returned, handed Anaïs a vodka gimlet, and settled with her on a divan. “Are you French?” he asked her. She noticed flecks of gold in his blue eyes. “I was born in Cuba, but my father moved us to France, where I lived until I was eleven. Then my parents divorced, and Mother brought us to New York.” “But your accent seems too pronounced for you to have lived here since you were eleven.” She noticed his ascetic temples. “When I was twenty, the man I was married to was transferred to a bank in Paris. In France my accent came back and now doesn’t want to leave.” “The man I was married to” wasn’t a lie, though it was something she said when she didn’t want to discourage a man romantically. She kept Hugo hidden. She kept the fact that she’d been married for twenty-four years hidden. They talked about Rupert growing up among Native Americans in a Palm Springs adobe, about her Spanish blood and her famous Cuban musician father, Joaquin Nin, about Rupert having studied music at Harvard, his belief in pacifism and interest in Eastern spirituality. They talked about typefaces and makes of standing presses. All the while her eyes spoke another language: I want you, do you want me? Do you desire me? Would you hurt me? Rupert told her earnestly that he was giving up the theater and returning home to Los Angeles to study to become a forest ranger. “So we’re both leaving New York for gentler pastures,” Anaïs said. “You’re leaving, too? Where are you going?” “I want to move back to Paris. I don’t find the United States hospitable to the kind of writing I do.” “Where have you been in the States besides New York?” “Brooklyn.” “That’s New York.” “And I’ve been to Boston. I gave talks at Amherst and Dartmouth.” “Have you ever been west of the Mississippi? Have you ever seen the mountains in Utah or the Indian lands in New Mexico? Ever been to California?” “No.” She sighed. “All the publishers are in New York.” “But Anaïs, you haven’t seen the United States yet! You’re going to leave this magnificent land before you’ve seen it? The US isn’t just the East Coast, you know.” “You sound like my friend Henry Miller. He recently moved to Big Sur in California.”

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  “Not really. It’s not my form of creativity. But Rupert has told me what a superb cook you are, and I greatly admire that.” “We believe it is an important bond for family life,” Helen said, nodding to her husband that he should begin eating. Rupert and Eric followed suit, but Anaïs’s throat was so tight that she had difficulty swallowing. “Delicious as usual, Mother,” Rupert enthused. “I love your cooking.” Better keep Mummy around, then, Anaïs thought. When they all said good-bye to her at the front door—Rupert standing in the hallway with his family as though posed as for their annual Christmas card—Helen came straight out and told her that she was not the woman they had hoped their son would find. So she was surprised when she heard tapping on her motel room door later. “They’re asleep so I slipped out,” Rupert said. She might have objected, but she was hungry for him. Their best language was that of the body, and their lovemaking had become more passionate, more expert, more satisfying each time. With his hands and lips, he directed the tides of her blood, rising in waves, until a huge breaker overcame them, subsiding like bubbling foam. He left at 3 a.m. saying, “I have to get back before they wake up.” For the next eleven days, it became Rupert’s pattern to appear at 10 p.m. after his mother and stepfather had gone to sleep and to leave at midnight so he would be fresh for school. He was a phantom lover who came and went in the night, and it suited Anaïs just fine. She had truly achieved what she had not believed herself capable of: a lightness, a total acceptance of the present without anxiety over what would become of their relationship in the future. In the mornings she would walk to Musso and Frank’s Grill for breakfast where, from her booth, she overheard secret deals being made for blacklisted screenwriters. In the afternoons, she worked on her next novel set in Acapulco to submit to Dutton, confident of her phantom lover’s nightly visits. On her last night before she was to fly back to Acapulco, though, Rupert seemed reluctant to leave her at midnight. “I’m going to miss you.” “You see?” She teased him. “You were concerned my being in Los Angeles would interrupt your studies, but I didn’t at all.” “When will I see you again?” He had never asked that before. She lowered her lids, imagined herself flying off, while he chased after, trying to keep her in sight. “I suppose the next time my work brings me here.” “Anaïs, I heard back on the forestry position I applied for. I’ll be working in Angeles National Forest near LA.” “Congratulations.” “They’re going to give me my own cabin in the woods. We could live there together.”

• From The Decameron (1353)

  One day, a little before the date appointed for the nuptials, Gisippus asked Titus, since he had not yet set eyes upon the girl, to come with him to see her. So they went to her house, and with the girl sitting between the two of them, Titus began to scrutinize her very closely, as though to form an estimate of the beauty of his friend’s future wife. But such was the boundless pleasure he experienced in surveying each part of her body that he was lost in silent admiration, and, though he showed no sign of what he was feeling, he burned with a passion more ardent than any ever kindled by a woman in her lover’s breast. However, after spending some little time with her, they took their leave and returned home. On arriving at the house, Titus retired to his room alone and began to meditate upon the young woman’s charms; and the longer he brooded upon her, the fiercer his ardour became. Perceiving the state he was in, he cast many a passionate sigh and began to commune with himself, saying: ‘Ah, Titus, what a beggarly way to behave! Where, upon whom, do you set your hopes, your heart and your love? Don’t you realize that the hospitality you have received from Chremes and his family, and the perfect friendship that unites you to Gisippus, her future husband, require that you should treat this girl with all the reverence owing to a sister? Will you allow yourself to be carried away by the delusions of love, the specious visions of desire? Open your eyes, you fool, and come to your senses. Make way for reason, bridle your lascivious desires, curb your unwholesome longings, and direct your thoughts elsewhere. Fight against your lust from the outset, and conquer yourself while you still have time. It is wrong for you to want this thing, it is dishonest; and even if you were certain (which you are not) of achieving your object, you would only have to think where the duty of a true friend lies, as you are bound to do in any case, to dismiss the idea from your mind. What will you do, then, Titus? If you want to do what is proper, abandon this unseemly love.’

• From The Decameron (1353)

  But apart from this they coaxed one or two good meals out of him, and he showed them various other little favours to encourage them in their efforts on his behalf. Now, after being kept on tenterhooks in this manner for at least two months without making any further progress, Calandrino, seeing that the work was nearing completion, and realizing that unless he gathered the fruits of his love before the frescoes were finished he would never have another opportunity, began to solicit Bruno’s aid with all the power at his command. So when she next came to stay at the house, Bruno made arrangements with Filippo and the girl about what they were to do, then he went to Calandrino and said: ‘Look here, comrade, this woman has promised me a thousand times that she would give you what you wanted, but when it comes to the point she does nothing, and I strongly suspect that she’s leading us by the nose. So unless you have any objection, as she won’t keep her promises, we shall make her keep them whether she wants to or not.’ ‘Ah yes!’ Calandrino replied. ‘Let’s do that, for the love of God, and do it quickly.’ ‘Are you bold enough to touch her with a scroll that I shall give you?’ asked Bruno. ‘Of course I am,’ said Calandrino. ‘In that case,’ said Bruno, ‘see that you let me have a small piece of parchment from a stillborn lamb, a live bat, three grains of incense, and a candle that has been blessed, and leave the rest to me.’ Calandrino accordingly spent the whole of that evening attempting by various ingenious means to catch a live bat, which he eventually succeeded in doing, and took it along to Bruno next morning, together with the other items he had specified. Bruno then withdrew to an inner room, filled the parchment with a series of meaningless hieroglyphics, and brought it back to Calandrino, saying: ‘Now listen, Calandrino: if you touch her with this parchment, she will immediately come with you and do whatever you want. So if Filippo should go off anywhere today, you must contrive to approach her and touch her with the scroll, then make your way round the side of the house to the barn, which is the ideal spot for your purposes as no one ever goes near it.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘What the devil’s the matter, comrade Calandrino? You do nothing but sigh the whole time.’ ‘Comrade,’ said Calandrino, ‘if only I had someone to help me, I could be the happiest man alive.’ ‘What do you mean?’ said Bruno. ‘Don’t tell a soul,’ said Calandrino, ‘but there’s a girl down there who’s lovelier than a nymph, and she’s so much in love with me that you’d be astonished. I came across her just now when I went to fetch the water.’ ‘Good heavens!’ said Bruno. ‘You’d better be careful, in case it’s Filippo’s wife.’ ‘That’s exactly who I think she is,’ said Calandrino, ‘for he called to her from the bedroom, and she went in to him. But anyway, what does it matter? For a girl like that, I’d slip one over on Jesus Christ, let alone Filippo. The truth is, comrade, that I’m so wild about her that I can’t begin to tell you how I feel.’ Then Bruno said: ‘I’ll make one or two inquiries for you, comrade, and find out who she is. If she turns out to be Filippo’s wife, I’ll fix things up for you in a trice, because she happens to be a very close friend of mine. But how are we to prevent Buffalmacco from finding out? I never get a chance to speak to her except when he is with me.’ ‘I’m not worried about Buffalmacco,’ said Calandrino, ‘but we must keep it a secret from Nello, because Tessa4 is a kinswoman of his and he would ruin everything.’ ‘That’s true,’ said Bruno. Now, Bruno knew perfectly well who she was, for he had seen her arriving at the house, and Filippo had told him in any case. So as soon as Calandrino downed tools for a moment to go and see whether he could catch a glimpse of the girl, Bruno told Nello and Buffalmacco all about Calandrino’s sudden infatuation, and together they agreed what they should do about it. As soon as Calandrino returned, Bruno whispered in his ear: ‘Did you see her?’ ‘Ah, that I did!’ Calandrino replied. ‘She’s struck me all of a heap.’ ‘I’ll just go and see whether she’s the one I think she is,’ said Bruno, ‘in which case you can safely leave everything to me.’ So Bruno went downstairs, and finding Filippo and the girl together, he carefully explained the sort of man that Calandrino was, and told them what he had said. He then arranged with each of them what they should do and say so that they could all have a merry time at Calandrino’s expense over this little love-affair of his. And returning to Calandrino, he said:

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  “Big Sur is majestic. High cliffs and crashing waves.” She noted he did not seem to know—or perhaps care—who Henry Miller, the sexually explicit banned novelist, was. Gazing into Rupert’s blue eyes, a child’s clear eyes, she decided the danger of his being another unformed child-man who would disappoint her in bed was too great. So when Bernard, a man she had casually slept with, came up and asked if he could give her a ride home, she accepted. As Bernard was helping her with her coat, though, Rupert approached and said directly, “I’d like to see you again.” Despite Bernard’s impatience, she pulled pen and paper from her purse, wrote down her number, and handed it to Rupert with an inviting smile. Although she had rigorous sex with Bernard that night, it was Rupert’s sensitive face she held in her mind. [image file=image_rsrc3R3.jpg] The next day, she did not leave the apartment in the hope that Rupert would call. He did not, but when she phoned Hazel to thank her for the party, Hazel said, “You have an admirer, that handsome young actor. After you left he went on and on about the beautiful, intriguing Anaïs Nin.” Then why doesn’t he call? Anaïs tormented herself. Had Hazel told him she was married? Rupert phoned her the next day. Since Hugo was still out of town, she invited him to dinner at her place. She had Millie prepare the ingredients for her to whip up medallions of veal with sliced eggplant. She made a stack of the 78s she wanted to play, lit candles, and prepared herself for Rupert to be late. He was punctual to the minute. He strode into the apartment, throwing his white leather coat over a chair, and as she fixed him a gin and tonic, he began to sort through her records. He put on Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde. The fact that the opera was about adulterous love between a young knight and the very married Isolde did not pass by her. As she handed him his drink, he set it on a table and pulled her into a forceful embrace, a wave that towed her under. When they finally surfaced, she remembered dinner. As she sizzled the veal in the skillet, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck. When, weak with relief and joy, she forgot what she was doing, he took over preparing the meal. He changed the records on the player. He uncorked the wine. And all the while he found new spots on her arms and face and décolletage to cover with kisses. Through dinner he kept the play of touch alive, intermittently taking her hand, keeping a knee next to hers under the table. “Do you live here alone?” he asked.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘I have always been told that man is the most noble of God’s mortal creatures, and that woman comes second. Moreover, man is generally considered the more perfect, and the evidence of his works confirms that this is so. Being more perfect, it inevitably follows that he has a stronger will, and this too is confirmed by the fact that women are invariably more fickle, the reasons for which are to be found in certain physical factors which I do not propose to dwell upon. ‘Man, then, has the stronger will. Yet quite apart from being unable to resist any woman who makes advances to him, he desires any woman he finds attractive, and not only does he desire her, but he will do everything in his power to possess her. And this is how he carries on, not just once a month, but a thousand times a day. What chance then do you think a woman, fickle by nature, can have against all the entreaties, the blandishments, the presents, and the thousand other expedients to which any intelligent lover will resort? Do you think she is going to resist him? Of course not, and you know it, no matter what you claim to the contrary. Why, you told us yourself that your wife is a woman, made of flesh and blood like the rest, in which case her desires are no different from any other woman’s, and her power to resist these natural cravings cannot be any greater. So that, however virtuous she may be, it’s quite possible that she acts like all the others. And whenever a thing is possible, one should not discount it prematurely or affirm its opposite, as you are doing.’ Bernabò’s reply was brief and to the point. ‘I am a merchant, not a philosopher,’ he said, ‘and I shall give you a merchant’s answer. I am well aware that the sort of thing you describe can happen in the case of foolish women who are without any sense of shame. But the more judicious ones are so eager to safeguard their honour that they become stronger than men, who are indifferent to such matters. And my wife is one of these.’

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  That night he drove her to his tiny apartment in Cleo, which turned out to be a ramshackle 1931 Model-A roadster. The convertible top was down in the middle of March and the heater didn’t work. Not wanting to seem old and fussy, she didn’t say a thing. Nor did it matter to her that his room was that of a messy boy. He played the guitar for her and then his viola. Full of assurance, he leapt up and pushed her down on the lumpy mattress, his kisses strong and skillful, the caresses of a musician, electric; his hands on her backside kneading in a frenzy that awakened her nerves. Fire and nerves and rhythm building to an assured crescendo. There was, she realized with joy, nothing passive about Rupert’s desire for her. After he drove her home in Cleo, she slipped undetected into bed with Hugo and lay awake, drunk from her passion with Rupert. Until dawn, she auditioned possible stories to tell Hugo so that she could run away in three weeks with her exuberant, young lover. At breakfast she said casually to Hugo, “You know my friend Thurema Sokol?” “The harpist.” “She’s giving a concert in Los Angeles but she’s afraid of flying. She asked me to keep her company on her drive across the country to California.” Hugo objected about the money the trip would cost, as she knew he would, but in the end he handed her a stack of bills, insisting that she pay her share of gas and lodging. She threw her arms around his neck and thanked him as a jagged stab of guilt pierced her. With her guilt came worries: What if Hugo ran into Thurema? What if Rupert didn’t show up on their set departure date? What if she got sick from exhaustion on the long drive? Her age would show and scare Rupert away. She handled her anxiety by keeping busy. She packed and re-packed her suitcase, hiding it with her diaries in the secret closet she’d had a carpenter install in the apartment without Hugo’s knowledge. The morning Rupert was to pick her up at 8:30 a.m., Hugo dawdled over breakfast. “I can be a little late to the office this morning.” He gave her a reptilian smile. “I’ll wait for Thurema and see you both off.” “Oh, you’d better not. Thurema said she might be late.” Anaïs jumped up and dialed the phone. Turning her back, unseen by Hugo, she disconnected the call. “Oh Thurema, how are you coming?” she said into the dead receiver. “No, that’s okay. Eleven would be fine. Hugo wanted to see you, but I’ll explain.” Putting down the receiver, she put her arms around Hugo. “I’m sorry, darling. You better get going.” She fussed over him, buttoning his coat, repeating how much she would miss him. It was 8:25. If he were coming, Rupert would be there in five minutes. What if Hugo were still in the apartment?

• From The Decameron (1353)

  ‘Just as I thought: it’s Filippo’s wife. So we shall have to tread very warily, because if Filippo gets wind of this affair, he’ll spill so much of our blood that all the water in the Arno won’t wash it away. But what message would you like me to give her, if I should have a chance to speak to her?’ ‘Faith!’ replied Calandrino. ‘You’re to tell her first and foremost that I wish her a thousand bushels of the sort of love that fattens a girl; then you’re to say that I’m her obedient servant, and if there’s anything she needs… Do you follow me?’ ‘Indeed I do,’ said Bruno. ‘Leave everything to me.’ When suppertime came, they all abandoned work for the day and made their way downstairs to the courtyard, where Filippo and Niccolosa stood loitering about for Calandrino’s benefit. Fixing his gaze on Niccolosa, Calandrino began to perform a whole series of curious antics, so blatantly obvious that even a blind man would have noticed. As for Niccolosa, in view of what Bruno had told her, she gave Calandrino every encouragement, and took the greatest delight in his eccentricities. And whilst all this was going on, Filippo was deep in conversation with Buffalmacco and the others, pretending not to notice. After a while, however, much to Calandrino’s annoyance, Filippo and the girl went away; and as they were on their way back to Florence, Bruno said to him: ‘There’s no doubt about it, Calandrino, you’ve got her in the palm of your hand. Holy Mother of God, if you were to bring along your rebeck5 and serenade her with one or two of those love-songs of yours, she’d be so eager to come to you that she’d hurl herself bodily through the window.’ ‘Do you really think so, comrade?’ said Calandrino. ‘Do you think I ought to fetch it?’ ‘I certainly do,’ Bruno replied. Whereupon Calandrino said: ‘You wouldn’t believe me today, when I told you. But you must admit, comrade, that when it comes to obtaining what I want, I know better than anybody else how to go about it. What other man could have persuaded a lady of her quality to fall in love with him so quickly? Could any of those young gallants have done it, who parade up and down the whole day long, spouting like a tap, and who wouldn’t know how to gather three handfuls of nuts in a thousand years? Just wait till you see what I can do with my rebeck: you’ll be amazed! You needn’t think I’m past the age for this sort of thing, because I’m not, and she knows it. And once I lay my paws on her, she’ll know it even better. God’s truth! I’ll sport with her so merrily that she’ll cling to me like a mother besotted with her son.’

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Fairest ladies, it is in my opinion impossible to envisage a more striking act of Fortune than the spectacle of a person being raised from the depths of poverty to regal status, which is what happened, as we have been shown by Pampinea’s story, in the case of her Alessandro. And since, from now on, nobody telling a story on the prescribed subject can possibly exceed those limits, I shall not blush to narrate a tale which, whilst it contains greater misfortunes, does not however possess so magnificent an ending. I realize of course, when I think of the previous story, that my own will be followed less attentively. But since it is the best I can manage, I trust that I shall be forgiven. Few parts of Italy, if any, are reckoned to be more delightful than the sea-coast between Reggio and Gaeta. In this region, not far from Salerno, there is a strip of land overlooking the sea, known to the inhabitants as the Amalfi coast,1 which is dotted with small towns, gardens and fountains, and swarming with as wealthy and enterprising a set of merchants as you will find anywhere. In one of these little towns, called Ravello,2 there once lived a certain Landolfo Rufolo, and although Ravello still has its quota of rich men, this Rufolo was a very rich man indeed. But being dissatisfied with his fortune, he sought to double it, and as a result he nearly lost every penny he possessed, and his life too. This Rufolo, then, having made the sort of preliminary calculations that merchants normally make, purchased a very large ship, loaded it with a mixed cargo of goods paid for entirely out of his own pocket, and sailed with them to Cyprus. But on his arrival, he discovered that several other ships had docked there, carrying precisely the same kind of goods as those he had brought over himself. And for this reason, not only did he have to sell his cargo at bargain prices, but in order to complete his business he was practically forced to give the stuff away, thus being brought to the verge of ruin. Being extremely distressed about all this, not knowing what to do, and finding himself reduced overnight from great wealth to semi-poverty, he decided he would make good his losses by privateering, or die in the attempt. At all events, having set out a rich man, he was determined not to return home in poverty. And so, having found a buyer for his merchantman, he combined the proceeds with the money he had raised on his cargo, and purchased a light pirate-vessel, which he armed and fitted out, choosing only the equipment best suited for the ship’s purpose. He then applied himself to the systematic looting of other people’s property, especially that of the Turks.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  He raised her chin with his hand. “I’m going to make you very happy with the trip I’ve planned.” He spread the map over her legs and with his finger traced the route he had drawn with a red pen. His finger slid off the map and onto her nightgown, still tracing a path of pleasure. In the morning, he retrieved the map from the floor and handed it to her. “You can be our navigator.” She watched as he instructed her how to measure the miles between towns and what the symbols meant, but her mind was on the calluses on his elegant fingers where he struck the strings of his guitar; gently, knowingly, the way he touched her. Although she proved useless at navigating from his maps, he complimented her on being a trooper, never complaining about the long hours in the cramped, topless car. She restrained her annoyance when he brought out the little notebook in which he faithfully recorded what they each ordered and owed for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Hugo’s junior accountant, she thought, but she was not about to let it spoil her romantic adventure. Contrary to her fears that she would suffer exhaustion, she found herself energized by their morning lovemaking and their play of touch in the car in anticipation of that night’s fireworks. She felt younger and healthier with each mile away from Hugo. They took the southern route via New Orleans so that they could visit Gore Vidal, who had rented a house in the French Quarter. Gore welcomed them and looked Rupert over with an appreciative eye. She knew it was risky to introduce them because Gore was also friends with Hugo, but she couldn’t resist making Gore envious of her for a change; Rupert was that gorgeous. While Gore was out in the afternoons, she and Rupert made love on the cool marble floor of his apartment, slivers of light through the slatted shutters falling in fine lines on their skin. Gore suddenly became the moralist. He who specialized in one-night stands took her aside and reprimanded her for deceiving Hugo. She used every charm she had to swear Gore to secrecy; he couldn’t be trusted with such juicy gossip about her. The road again: Lake Pontchartrain, Delta country, the Mississippi River, flat regions, cattle ranches, tumbleweeds, the Texas Panhandle, Santa Fe, Indian country, canyons with sculpted turrets, lunar expanses, red earth, the Grand Canyon, immense awe, eons of geological strata, the wind whispering of eternity. America so beautiful, its snowcapped mountains, its deserts, rivers, bison, deer, unfamiliar trees and birds. She loved the land and the young man who knew it, knew its history, told her stories of Navajo legends, Spanish explorers, wagon pioneers. Night and day together. Making love in cabins with fireplaces, in bare rooms with electric heaters, under pine trees in a sleeping bag, on the sloping sand dunes of Death Valley.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  The first two months we were together, I sat in the hotel lounge every Saturday night to hear Neal play and to stake my claim to him. Then he told me that “the Man” didn’t want me taking up a table; I was a distraction. After that, Neal didn’t come home Saturday nights. He would phone after his last set to say he was going to jam all night with the guys. The next day, he would drag in and head wordlessly to the shower. I would yell at him through the shower door about how I hadn’t slept all night and why did he make me fall in love with him just so he could break my heart. Getting no response, I’d throw myself on the bed in hysterical tears. Fresh from his shower, a towel around his waist, he’d silently remove his sax from its case and sit on the edge of the bed. Then he’d play just for me. Twice he improvised a tune so beautiful it made me cry all the more because I would never hear it again. Or he’d play Satie’s Trois Gymnopedies, that spare, lonely melody that takes me to the empty streets of my dreams where all alone, I look through buildings and rooms, searching behind doors, and halls for a passageway out that doesn’t exist. Then he’d place the sax, carefully as always, back in its case and say, “Do you want a massage?” and I would refuse to answer. He’d say, “Roll over. On your stomach.” He’d knead the anger right out of me, making my body yearn with desire for him. He’d say, “Turn on your back.” Then he’d try to kiss me, but I’d turn my head away. He’d gently turn my face to him and kiss my wet eyelids. When his lips would claim mine, I tasted my tears, his kiss sweeping me, pulling me, into a spiraling black hole. I wanted only him and what he would do with my body. I was in love, but this was no way to live. I needed to talk to Anaïs. I desperately needed her wise Djuna advice for how to handle my turbulent, self-destructive emotions. But I had failed her and I didn’t dare call her again. I wouldn’t have known where to phone her, in any case. For all I knew, she could still be in New York, or back in LA, or nowhere. She’d said she would not survive if she lost both her husbands. That no longer seemed an exaggeration to me. I knew I would not survive losing Neal, and she’d have that loss twice over. I did try repeatedly to reach Renate. Ronnie always answered the phone. Finally I acquiesced to his demand that I quit calling. Anaïs must have instructed Renate, who in turn had instructed Ronnie, to cut me off.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  Excited that she would be seeing in person one of her artistic idols, Anaïs pulled her new Dior evening suit out of her closet, where she’d carefully hung it, safe from Rupert’s tearing. She asked Hugo to zip up the snug bustier that she had struggled with alone the night she’d worn it for Rupert. Hugo touched her small breasts raised in it, and she was aroused recalling Rupert’s frenzied kisses there. “You have to be seen in that dress tonight,” Hugo said. He called up the maître d’ at 21 Club and got them a table for after the ballet. Feeling a grateful tenderness for him as he refilled her champagne glass after their expensive evening, she toasted, “To my husband, who works so hard to give me our wonderful life. Who saved my whole family by marrying me against his father’s wishes. Dear Hugo, my savior.” He grasped her hand. “And to Anaïs, who makes my life worth living.” That night she tried to enjoy him mounting her in his absent, hurried way. A few days later, she phoned Rupert without fear, with faith in what their bodies had shared. Since Hugo was home for a stretch now, she offered to come to the print shop and take Rupert to dinner at a little Spanish cantina she knew. Once they’d settled in a corner booth, the dark brick walls and paintings of Flamenco dancers and bullfighters stirred the courage of Anaïs’s Spanish blood. She came right out and asked him, “When are you leaving for California?” “In three weeks. I have to take Cleo for a checkup and then I’m off.” “Cleo?” “Cleopatra.” “What’s wrong with her?” “She’s been very lethargic.” “I suppose you will miss her.” “Oh, no, I’m taking her with me.” “What about your girl in California?” “Anaïs, Cleo is my car.” “Oh.” She laughed. “I never know the makes of cars.” “No, Cleo’s just my name for her. She’s a Ford. Sometimes I can’t tell when you are teasing me.” “Do you think I’m teasing you if I say I’ll miss you?” “No, because I know I’ll miss you.” “Well, we can write to each other.” She suddenly felt the happiness of the past weeks drain out of her. She lowered her eyes to the shrimp shells in the bowl between their half-eaten plates of paella. She would be left as hollow as those discarded, brittle carapaces. Empty without the sweet pungency of desire. “Come with me,” Rupert said. She looked up into his steady blue gaze. “To California?” “Keep me company on the drive. We can make an adventure of it.” “Yes,” she said without thinking. She had no idea how she would manage it, what she would tell Hugo. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind, though; she was going to run away with this beautiful man.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  And when further evidence came to light, proving that their suspicions were correct, the Prince summoned friends, kinsfolk and servants from various places to come to his support and he quickly assembled a huge and powerful army, with which he set out to make war on the Duke of Athens. When the Duke received word of the operations, he too mobilized all his armed forces for his defence, and many powerful outsiders came to his assistance, including two who were sent by the Emperor of Constantinople, namely his son, Constant, and his nephew, Manuel. These latter, arriving at the head of large and well-drilled contingents, received a warm welcome from the Duke. But the welcome they received from the Duchess was even warmer, because she was Constant’s sister. With the prospect of war becoming daily more imminent, the Duchess chose a convenient moment to invite the two men to her room, where, talking without stopping amid floods of tears, she told them the whole story, explaining the reasons for the war and exposing the wrong practised upon her by the Duke on account of this woman, of whose existence he imagined her to be ignorant. Bewailing her lot in no uncertain terms, she begged them, for the sake of the Duke’s honour and her own happiness, to take whatever measures they could devise for setting matters to rights. The young men were already fully informed about the whole business, and so without asking too many questions they consoled her to the best of their ability and gave her every ground for optimism. Then, having discovered from the Duchess where the lady was staying, they took their leave of her. Since they had often heard glowing accounts of this woman’s marvellous beauty, they were naturally anxious to see her, and they therefore asked the Duke if he would introduce her to them. The Duke agreed to do so, forgetting the fate which had befallen the Prince after granting a similar favour. And the following morning, having ordered a magnificent banquet to be prepared in a beautiful garden on the estate where the lady was living, he took the two men and a handful of other friends to dine with her. On sitting down in her company, Constant began to stare at her in blank amazement, vowing to himself that he had never seen anything so beautiful, and that no one could possibly reproach the Duke, or anybody else, for resorting to treachery and other dishonest means in order to gain possession of so fair an object. Moreover, his admiration increased with every look he cast in her direction, so that eventually the same thing happened to him as had previously happened to the Duke.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  He then leapt angrily to his feet, and without revealing his intentions to a living soul, set out on horseback with a there handful of companions; and after the third day he came to the place where Nathan lived. Evening was now approaching, and having bidden his companions to pretend he was a total stranger to them, and find themselves somewhere to stay pending further instructions, he was left to his own devices. Not very far from Nathan’s fair palace he came across its owner, all alone and very plainly attired, taking a pleasant stroll in the cool of the evening; and not realizing who it was, he asked him whether he could direct him to Nathan’s house. ‘My son,’ Nathan gaily replied, ‘nobody in these parts could show you better than I how to get there. So if you have no objection, I’ll take you there myself.’ The young man gladly accepted his offer, but told him that if possible he did not want Nathan to see him or to know that he was there. ‘Since you want it to be so,’ said Nathan, ‘I shall attend to that as well.’ Mithridanes therefore dismounted, and, walking along with Nathan, who was very soon entertaining him with a stream of fine talk, he made his way to the beautiful palace. On reaching the palace, Nathan got one of his servants to take the young man’s horse, and, whispering into the servant’s ear, instructed him to pass the word immediately through the entire household that no one was to tell the young man that he himself was Nathan. And this command was carried out. Once they were inside the palace, he saw that Mithridanes was lodged in an exquisite room, to which no one was admitted except the servants he had deputed to wait upon him. And making the visitor feel completely at home there, Nathan himself kept him company. Thus they spent the evening together, and although Mithridanes treated Nathan with the deference of a son conversing with a father, he was unable to refrain from asking him who he was. ‘I am one of Nathan’s menial servants,’ replied Nathan, ‘and although I have been with him ever since my infancy, he has never raised me above my present station; so that, even if everyone else praises him to the skies, I myself have little to thank him for.’ The old man’s words raised hopes in Mithridanes of being able to carry out his evil purpose more safely and discreetly, especially when Nathan went on to ask him very politely to tell him who he was and the nature of his business in that part of the world, offering him all the advice and assistance he could give.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Facing towards the north, with the image still in your hand, you must repeat seven times in succession a certain formula which I shall write down for you, whereupon you will be approached by two young ladies, as fair as you have ever seen, who will greet you amicably and ask you what it is that you want to be done. See that you explain your wishes to them as clearly and as fully as you can, and make sure that you give them the name of the right person. Once you’ve done that, they will go away, and you’ll be able to descend to the place where you left your clothes, put them on again, and return home. And without a shadow of a doubt, by the middle of the following night your lover will come to you in tears, asking you to forgive and take pity on him. Thenceforth, I can assure you that he will never again desert you for another woman.’ The lady, hanging on his every word, was already, in her mind’s eye, holding her lover once again in her arms, and half her troubles seemed to be over. ‘You may rest assured,’ she replied, ‘that I shall carry out your instructions to the letter, and I know the very place to do it, for I have a farm along the upper reaches of the Arno which is very close to the banks of the river, and since we are now in the month of July it will be a pleasure to go for a bathe. Moreover, I recall that not far from the river there is a small tower, which is totally abandoned except for the fact that every so often the shepherds climb up the wooden ladder to a platform at the top, in order to scan the countryside for their lost sheep. The place is very deserted and out-of-the-way, and by climbing to the top of the tower, I hope to be in an ideal spot to do all you require.’ The scholar knew exactly where the lady’s property and the little tower were situated, and being pleased to find that things were working according to plan, he said: ‘I was never in those parts, madam, and hence I know neither the farm nor the tower of which you speak. But if your description is correct, there couldn’t be a better place in the whole world. When the time is ripe, therefore, I shall send you the image and the magic formula; but I do urge you to remember, once your wish has been granted and you realize how well I have served you, to keep the promise you have given me.’ The lady assured him that she would do so without fail, and having taken her leave of him she returned to her house.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  For one day, being in need of a little diversion, he went to a banquet, where his eyes came to rest upon this young woman, Elena, who was dressed (as our widows usually are) in black, and seemed to him the loveliest and most fascinating woman he had ever seen. He thought to himself that the man to whom God should grant the favour of holding her naked in his arms could truly claim that he was in Paradise. And having stolen many a cautious glance at the lady, knowing that so great and precious a prize could not be won without considerable effort, he firmly resolved to devote all his care and attention to pleasing the lady, so that he might win her love and savour her manifest beauty to the full. The young woman, who was her own greatest admirer, was not in the habit of keeping her eyes fixed upon the ground, but darted coy glances in every direction and swiftly singled out those men who were showing an interest in her. And on catching sight of Rinieri, she laughed to herself and thought: ‘I shan’t have wasted my time in coming here today, for unless I am mistaken, I’m about to lead a simpleton by the nose.’ She then began to look at him every so often out of the corner of her eye, and did her utmost to make it appear that she took an interest in him, being of the opinion, in any case, that the more men she could entice and conquer with her charms, the more highly would her beauty be prized, especially by the young man on whom, along with her love, she had bestowed it. The learned scholar, setting all philosophical meditations aside, filled his mind exclusively with thoughts of the lady; and thinking it would please her, he discovered where she lived and began to walk past her house at frequent intervals, inventing various pretexts for passing that way. For the reason already mentioned, this greatly encouraged the lady’s vanity, and she pretended to be very flattered. And so at the first opportunity the scholar made friends with her maidservant, declared his love for the lady, and begged her to use her influence with her mistress so that he might win her favours. The maid promised him the moon and reported their conversation to her mistress, who laughed so much that she nearly died. And she said: ‘I wonder where he’s left all that wisdom that he brought back with him from Paris? But never mind, let’s give him what he’s looking for. Next time he speaks to you, tell him that I love him far more than he loves me; but tell him that I have to protect my honour, so that I may hold up my head in the company of other women.