Читать книгу The Confessions Of A Concubine онлайн

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My nightgown was soaked in blood at the level of the groin.

I remember screaming just once.

Then nothing.

Then only the vague memory of my husband trying to bring me back to my senses, taking me in the car wrapped in a blanket, then the doctors, the nurses like working bees around me, the bright lights on the bed illuminating my nudity.

My baby.

My baby.

Give me back my baby.

Give him back to me.

Where did you put him?

Where?

Where?

Where did you hide him?

Where did you take him?

It was too beautiful.

I know it was too good.

I felt as if I had gone crazy.

Nothing made sense anymore, nothing seemed important enough to me to live.

Filippo was almost always sitting by the side of my bed, but he didn't look at me, he didn't talk to me.

In those days of pain, his presence was of no comfort to me, partly because I believed that he was there only because the situation forced him to be, partly because I felt I was obliged to endure his presence.

It seemed to me that the few times he turned his gaze to me, pointing his black eyes at me, he blamed me without the possibility of appeal for not having been able to guard the life of our son.