Wednesday, 16 August 1916
He woke up from the polyglot hubbub of the square, mixed with military orders, trotting of horses and the crackle of carriage wheels on the stone-paved street. Irritated, he kicked the bedsheet away and got up. He got into the bathroom. He leaned on the basin and looked straight into his reflection in the mirror. The saga with the lover of the golden heiress would end today.
The fish was most tender. It dissolved in the mouth. The walnut sauce was a culinary experience and delight of the taste buds. But Mario was swallowing down horse feed. The young lady did not turn her eyes to look at him even once. She only knew how to smile every time that ludicrous man stack his mouth to her ear and murmured incomprehensibly. He almost swallowed it. What could he possibly
