When Vanna was a little girl each room had its own name. Any random fact that might be repeated or that incited the children’s imagination gave rise to a new and bizarre name. And so there was the “prickly pear” room, the “book” room, the “pink” room.

“We prepared this one for you because yesterday, with such short notice, it was the best we could do,” explained her mother.

“I’ll be fine here!” said Vanna. Unpinning her veil, she looked at her mother. It seemed she was only now really seeing her, face to face, and her heart ached. She found her so much smaller, almost more humbled.

“And mine?” she asked, placing her veil on the bed.

“Yours?”

“The pink one, where I was before.”

“Oh! Ninetta sleeps there now. What can you do … now that there are so many of us, the rooms are all taken. And besides, like I told you, we hadn’t even hoped to see you this year….”

“But even when you came with Guido the first time,” interrupted Antonio, who had appeared, “we fixed this one up for you.”

“Of course,” replied Vanna. She was confused because she wanted to say that this time she wanted to stay forever, and she felt that no one was really happy about such an idea.

But her mother began again in a voice that was sweet and weary: “I never thought I would have to see you like this … after three years. Did something happen, Vannicchia?” Fighting back tears, her lips trembled as she pronounced those words.

Vanna blushed deeply. “All right,” she answered quickly, “I quarreled with him, badly.”

Her brother knit his brow. Her mother set the candle on the nightstand.

“And …”

“I couldn’t take it any more. Why are you making that face, Antonio? Didn’t any of you want me back?”

“That’s got nothing to do with it! It’s that you’ve put us all in a bad situation. Your husband might think that we’ve …”

“No, no. It would never cross his mind that I’d come all the way down here.”

“Aren’t you clever! And what do you think he supposes then? You’re always the same Vanna, trying to convince yourself of things,” said Antonio, smiling so as not to reveal his true feelings. “What did Guido ever do to you? You’ll see,” he added with an air of indulgence. “I’ll write to him, and everything will be fine.”

“No!” cried Vanna, as if someone had wounded her. “I won’t allow it! I’d rather throw myself in the sea!”

Vanna’s mother made a sign for her son to be quiet. Didn’t he see that Vanna was so tired and agitated she couldn’t reason? Why torment her?

“Tomorrow,” she repeated. “Tomorrow when she’s more rested …”