In the evenings Vanna would stay out on the terrace till late. She didn’t suffer being left alone. In the night’s silence she listened to the murmuring sound of the sea and the waves that crashed onto the shore. A random rose would sometimes brush against her hair. She felt that her spirit was at rest.

There were no answers from Rome. But then, when she was no longer expecting it, a sharp letter arrived. The lawyer wrote to his father-in-law saying that Vanna’s departure had been a flight undignified of a respectable woman, but that he was willing to forget everything “together with the inevitable anguish that arises out of married life.”

The letter made a good impression.

“The devil isn’t as bad as you depicted him,” said Antonio.

And Viola added, brightening, “The truth is you can’t really know a man judging by what others say.”

From that day on, they treated Vanna with the utmost consideration. Viola and Remigia urged their mother-in-law to carry out her duty.

“When you have solid principles …” repeated Remigia. “I, for example, would never leave my home, even if Nenè isn’t exactly an angel all the time!”

“Certain things you just need to accept!” said Viola. “When you don’t bring two cents of dowry to a marriage, you can’t have too many expectations.”

Viola was proud to have had 30,000 lire in cash that allowed Luigi to form a business partnership with Nenè.

The older woman was mortified.

Even Antonio, for however much Maria tried to soften his stance regarding Vanna’s fate, grew more and more convinced that his sister was being unrealistic. Since he and his brothers worked in the same office, they used to tell him this over and over.

“My dear!” exclaimed Viola, pursuing her sister-in-law as far as the hidden corner of the arbor, “there is no such thing as a bad or a good marriage, but there are prudent women and foolish ones….”

Vanna tried to protect herself from their persistence, which was often vulgar and came at her from every direction.

Finally, she quit caring about justifying herself. Worn down and distant, she only heard Luigi’s reasoning, her mother’s begging, her sisters-in-law’s advice. They talked to her of nothing but a future full of dangers and responsibilities. When they did force her to respond, she always nodded in agreement: “Yes, yes…. But leave me alone now,” she would plead.

And deep in her heart she felt that her father’s house, now altered and transformed, was slowly pushing her out.

“You can’t go back!” whispered the soft and fragrant roses that brushed against her hair.

“You can’t go back!” warned the sea from afar, casting its silver foam onto the shore as though it meant to reach her terrace.