Afterwards, when the man had finished his sandwich and wiped the crumbs from his fingers, he crumpled the paper and dropped it back in the valise.Then he sat there as quietly as before, staring out the window when he wasn’t looking about at the other passengers. It seemed to Carter that the old man was a bit ill at ease and did not quite know what to do to occupy himself.

“Lei vorrebbe leggere un po del giornale?” Carter finally asked, offering the old man a section of the newspaper to read.

“No,” he replied in a gentle voice. “I’ve already read the news today, but thank you for offering.”

He sat there in silence for a moment before giving Carter a nod.

“You speak Italian very well for an American,” he said.

Carter gaped at the man. Shaking his head, he tossed the newspaper aside.

“How is it that everybody knows I’m an American?” he asked with a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

The old man smiled and shrugged.

“A lucky guess,” he said, bowing his head modestly. Then he asked Carter to tell him from where he came in America.

“Rhode Island,” Carter answered.When the man appeared not to recognize the name, he added, “It’s a state between Boston and New York.”

“Ah, yes,” the old man nodded. “I think I have heard of it.You are a long way from home.Where are you going?”

“Right now I’m on my way to Pisa,” said Carter.

“I see,” he said. “Are you a student?”

“Not exactly,” said Carter. “I’m just here on vacation.”

“Well, you will find Pisa very interesting,” said the man, suddenly taking on a proud, authoritative air. “You will of course want to visit the tower, but did you know that Galileo and Enrico Fermi both taught at the university there?”

“No, I did not,” admitted Carter, smiling, for he realized that this was the first real conversation speaking Italian he had yet to have since he arrived in Italy. Encouraged, he asked the man if he was going to Pisa, as well.

The old man’s eyes turned sad and uncertain.

“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “I’m getting off at Livorno. I’m going to see my son.”