WHY HAD WE SAT THERE HYPNOTISED, without making a move? Why, on finding myself so close to Sax for the second time, had I not gone up to him and asked him if he would grant me an interview? Had I been afraid that he might humiliate me with a refusal? But wasn’t it more humiliating, in front of Rossa and Sole, to have lacked the courage to go and speak to him? That man intimidated me, made me feel insecure, paralysed me. I know that this didn’t matter to Sole, but I had realised that Rossa was under Sax’s spell and, if he had been younger, she might have fallen in love with him. But what did age matter? Sax had erotic episodes, love affairs, with very young women. He would take them to his studio where he seduced them, painted them, and left them. Why did he do this? Why did he need to seduce women so much? The truth was that I didn’t make contact with him because I was afraid that even Rossa might have fallen into the net cast by that werewolf. What if he had suggested that he paint her portrait? Perhaps even Sole, who always spoke of him in disparaging terms, might have accepted. I couldn’t bear the idea of my wife or daughter sitting for him. Better to get rid of this obsession and put it out of mind. Forget Sax.