The dank, gloomy passageway gave some idea of the horrors that lay beyond. The two women were allowed no further. The young guard came forward and took the basket, and Giovanna asked him in a low voice if Costantino had slept.

‘Yes, he slept, but he kept dreaming and saying the words “mortal sin” over and over.’

‘To the devil with that mortal sin of his,’ said Bachisia. ‘Why doesn’t he stop it?’

‘Why do you keep cursing him?’ Giovanna hissed. ‘Hasn’t fate cursed him enough?’

Once outside again, they waited for the prisoner to be brought forth. When Giovanna saw the policemen who were to take him to the court, she began to tremble violently. Her black eyes widened as she stared, aghast, at the great doorway. Anguished moments passed. Once more the sphinx’s mouth opened, and surrounded by stony-faced guards with long black moustaches, the figure of Costantino appeared. He was tall and lithe as a young poplar. Two locks of black hair, long and shining, framed a beardless, almost effeminate face that had grown pallid from confinement. He had chestnut-brown eyes, an innocent boyish mouth, and a dimpled chin.

The moment he saw Giovanna he grew paler still and stopped short, pulling back against the guards. The girl rushed forward, sobbing, and clutched his manacled hands.

‘Move along, my dear,’ one of the policemen told her gently. ‘You know that’s not allowed.’

Bachisia had stepped forward as well, her little green eyes darting over the group.

‘Be brave,’ Costantino said in a firm, almost cheerful voice, and he gave Giovanna a steady smile.

‘The lawyer is waiting for you at the court,’ Bachisia told him as the guards pushed the two women gently aside.

‘Stand back, you people,’ they said, leading the prisoner off.

Still smiling at Giovanna, his white teeth gleaming between colourless lips, Costantino moved away flanked by his two stony-faced guards.

Taking hold of Giovanna, who was trying to follow her husband, Bachisia led her daughter back to the Porrus’ to have breakfast before they went to the courtroom.

Sunlight flooded the courtyard, playing on the shining leaves of the grapevines from which hung bunches of unripe grapes that seemed made from pale green marble. The swallows twittered in the sunny air, and Efes Maria, on a bay horse, was preparing to set out for the fields. How bright and cheerful the place seemed with its low stone wall, beyond which stretched a vast horizon. Seated on the kitchen doorstep, the children ate their bread and milk. Grazia had taken hers to eat in a corner, perhaps to avoid the eyes of the law student, who stood in his shirt-sleeves in the middle of the yard, gulping down a huge bowlful of broth.

Porredda polished her son’s shoes, marvelling to hear of the wonderful things he had seen.