How, John asked himself, can I not lie to him, if he confronts her with my crime? Overcome with remorse, he burst into convulsive sobs, ripped the accusatory book apart and, bending forward, spat on the mutilated pages of the Confessions. Had he been a little less quick to judge, he would have learnt from Jean-Jacques that, whilst remorse may lie dormant in times of prosperity, it invariably rears its pathetic head in adversity.
At breakfast, he announced that he needed to spend the entire day at the German Institute – anything to avoid Rita’s unsuspecting, smiling visage – to which Sir Christopher raised no objection, though he did remind him to collect the gold repeater on his way home. John did not, in fact, go anywhere near the library. Instead, he headed straight for Santa Croce, the
