Quinine
The Vaccàs kept their carriage house north of the river, on a deserted street fronting the slanted tower. At first light Keats and Leopoldo passed beneath its shadow, turned on the grassy cobbles and found the stable doors already thrown open to the street. A pair of horses stood in the low sun, being harnessed by the angry student who had to wear Church robes for his scholarship, and a senior student Keats knew from the café, and also Giuditta, who was moving around in the shade of a broad hat and a man’s jacket much too large for her. Leopoldo stumbled when he caught sight of her, and threw out his arms.
“How are you here!” he cried.
She waved her hat at him. “Good morning, fratello mio! Are we not bound for the marshes?”
He rounded on his colleagues. “Who brought her?”
“Non
