Carter gave another yawn, and pulled the covers more tightly about him. It was a cool morning, and he was inclined to remain in the warm confines of the bed for just a little while longer. It was not long, though, before the aroma of freshly brewed coffee came wafting up the stairs. Despite the memory of his near-death coffee experience on his first night in Rome, and his resultant aversion to all things caffeine, Carter found the smell irresistible.Throwing the covers aside, he set his feet on the floor and began to get dressed.

Antonella was sitting at the kitchen table, perusing the newspaper and sipping her coffee, when Carter came downstairs. A clean mug and spoon were set out across from her in anticipation of his awakening.

“Ayyy, finalmente,” said Antonella when he walked into the kitchen. “Buon giorno! We were beginning to think that you were going to sleep all day.”

As much of the language as he had learned, Carter still found it difficult to speak Italian first thing in the morning, so it took him a moment to translate in his head what she had said and to formulate an appropriate response.

“I think I could have slept all day,” he finally yawned, “but the bells woke me up.” It occurred then to Carter that he had once again missed mass.

“That’s our church, La Chiesa della Madonna,” she told him.

“I heard something else,” Carter added. “It sounded like guns to me.”There came the report of another gunshot. “There it is again,” he said.

Antonella put the newspaper aside and gestured for him to sit. Then she took his mug and went to the coffee pot on the stove to fill it.

“I cacciatori,” she told him as she set the steaming brew before him. “It’s the hunters. They like to go out in the valley on Sunday mornings. Giorgio is out there with them now.”

“Really?” said Carter. “What does he like to hunt?”

“Who knows?” scoffed Antonella. “He never brings home anything. I think he just likes to go out there and shoot his gun in the air just for the fun of it. As long as he doesn’t shoot himself in the foot, that’s all I care about. But he should be back anytime now.”

“Professor Rosa never mentioned to me anything about hunting,” said Carter, before taking a sip of his coffee. “I wonder if he liked to hunt, as well, when he lived here.”

Antonella gave a little smile and sat down once more at the table. “I don’t think so,” she said. “He was never really that type.” She sat there for a moment, staring pensively into her cup. “So tell me, Carter,” she asked, looking up at him with eyes full of curiosity. “How is your professor? Is he doing well? Is he happy?”