At dawn she would set about working, and as soon as she had finished lunch she would go back to see the effect of a bud or a leaf stitched in the morning. Perfecting her craft of embroidering strange flowers in every shade of gray and ash, she lived for these sad, patient works, loved as though they were living things.

Aunt Fifì observed her niece curved over her embroidery hoop. “She’s going to end up just like the other one!” said Aunt Vanna. “And all we’ll have left are eyes to weep with. Poor Tano …”

“If only we could distract her a little…. Get her to go out for a bit of fresh air….”

“I’d take her straight out to the countryside.”

“On vacation?! And have you thought about what people would say?! It’s only been six months since that dear soul …”

“Not even six months,” repeated Aunt Fifì. “But Caterina won’t last like this.”

“Raimondo should bring his daughter over!”

And so one evening Uncle Raimondo brought Nenè, who had just returned from the Maria Adelaide Institute. But Nenè was soon bored: she chattered away gossiping, happily at first and then in a more biting tone, while Caterina remained immersed in thought with her hands folded on her lap.

Maybe she wasn’t even listening to her.

No, Nenè couldn’t feel sorry for that poor cousin of hers.

And yet she came back the next day together with signora Teta Picci, an out-of-towner dressed in a long, black velvet jacket that made her look like a man.

“It’s the Italian professor’s wife,” she explained to Aunt Fifì as Aunt Vanna bustled confusedly about the visitor. “She’s a little bizarre, but she has a heart as big as the ocean.”

Caterina looked at the new arrival with curiosity and diffidence. She had two tufts of gray hair on her forehead and the skinniest hands, which were always moving. She spoke without stopping to catch her breath, answering her own questions; she talked about people she’d met in Milan and seen in Florence, describing places and people with a phrase or an adjective that brought them to life. She interrupted herself to exclaim: “But don’t you ever go out? Yes, yes, I know.”

Or else, “You should shake yourselves out of it!” But she didn’t wait for an answer and continued on with her chattering.

Aunt Fifi noticed that Caterina’s curiosity had become almost playful, and she was grateful to this stranger. She wanted to accompany her out, and while Aunt Vanna lit the way on the landing and Nenè went ahead, she followed the guest and clasped both of her hands, imploring, “Please, stop by again … we’re so alone!”

“I’ll come again. I’ll come back….”