from where they sit together at a corner of the huge dining table.
Antonio is the centre of attention, revelling in answering all the
questions fired at him. His father uncorks a second bottle and tops
everybody up.
Antonio basks in it all. A real homecoming; the warmth of
the fire, his family around him, the enticing aroma of his mother’s
casserole and of course all this surfeit of attention.
Paolina gives Annina a smile and winks to reassure her
that all will be well, although it is a while before Giambattista
Vivaldi, as head of the family, remembers formally to offer his two
guests lodging.
It is a bit of a squash, but for the moment the sisters have a
roof over their heads.
Later in the evening, when they are lying side by side in bed, Paolina
stares into the darkness. Anna has fallen asleep at once, exhausted
from the travelling and all the new impressions filling her little
head. Paolina knows they cannot stay here long; the house is just a
bit too small to accommodate them. The welcome extended by
these people has been genuinely warm. And yet some instinct tells
her this atmosphere cannot last. Camilla’s eyes upon her had been
too sharp, too enquiring. But perhaps Paolina is mistaken, she
reflects, maybe she is imagining things. In any case, she resolves
tomorrow to discuss with Antonio what his plans might be.
Early next morning Paolina, weary from a poor night and having
slipped out of bed carefully so as not to awaken Anna, lets herself
into the priest’s workroom. The white, plastered space in which she
finds herself is not large; hardly to be compared with his chamber
in the palace of Mantua. But it is practical. There is enough natural
light, and the place is perfectly neat and tidy! The table is empty
and only the shelves are laden with bundles of carefully stacked
paper and some beautifully bound books. She touches nothing,
deciding instead to go back outside and explore the neighbourhood.
Upon her return a good hour later, Paolina hears voices in
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