Chapter 8
Summer had burst forth a few weeks before. The fields were yellow with corn and at dusk the scent of flowers spread through the streets of the town, inclining the soul towards new projects and new commitments.
I was standing in the doorway of the house savouring the perfumed freshness of evening, when I heard a carriage stop in front of the door. Not wanting to make my presence obvious, I gave just a discreet glance from where I stood, protected from view by a bush of roses. The tall, dark figure of Count Broccardo Persico appeared from behind a cluster of thorny branches. He was coming in my direction so there was no way to avoid him.
A distant relative of my family's, the count was an old friend of my father's and shared his love of the arts. Elegant, witty, influential and
