Nor could she forget that he was doing this for her. The why of it mystified her, but he had said he was friends with Father Bernardi, and the priest was her father’s friend, so it did make some kind of sense. And if he could endure the long hours of travel so serenely, then she could at least try to get through the day without collapsing in floods of tears.

The sun was edging close to the horizon when Niccolò finally stopped the cart by a low and sprawling hedgerow that bordered a grassy field.

“We’re not all that far from Mezzo Ciel, but it’s safer to stop before the sun has gone down.”

“Even though we’re close?”

“We won’t make it there until long after sundown, and I don’t want to risk being caught on the road after curfew. We’ll rise at dawn, though, and be home by late morning.”

“All right.”

“Will you hop down and hold Bello’s bridle for a moment while I open this gate?”

“But he’ll—”

“He’s just as tired as you, and he wants nothing more than to rest and eat his supper and go to sleep. He won’t move a muscle.”

“Are you sure we’ll be all right here?”

“We’ll be fine. My cousin Sandro owns this field. We won’t get in trouble for staying here. Is that what you’re worried about?”

“It’s only . . . what if it rains?”

“No chance of that after such a fine day. It won’t be as comfortable as my aunt’s house, but we’ll be warm enough, and there’s enough food in the basket for supper. What more do we need?”

He took Bello’s bridle and led the animal into the field, and without asking or receiving any help from her, he unhitched the mule and left him to graze, filled a wooden bucket from the cask—they’d passed a fountain not long after they’d stopped for lunch—and took it to Bello. Then he made up a bed for her from a stack of folded blankets that had been stowed in the cart, and set out the last of their food on a clean napkin.

“Not quite a feast, but we’ll survive. There’s bread and cheese, and we still have most of the wine that Zia gave us.”

They ate in silence, and even though the bread had gone hard and stale, she ate every crumb of it. He poured some of the wine into the tin cup, and she drank just enough to wash down the bread and no more.

“I’ll check on Bello, so if you need some privacy to attend to, ah . . . there are some shrubs in the far corner. No one can see you from the road.”