But don’t you understand, Massigher? Don’t you feel sufficiently safe in this great old house? How can you feel doubt? Isn’t it enough for you to be surrounded by these solid old walls, this nicely balanced peace, these impassive faces? How do you dare offend such dignity with your silly childish fears?

‘You look like a soul possessed,’ remarked his friend Fedri affectionately, ‘like a painter … what prevented you from combing your hair? Please, next time … you know Mother’s views on this,’ and he burst out laughing.

He was interrupted by a peevish enquiry from his father: ‘Well, shall we begin this bridge? We’ve still got time, you know. One game and then bed. Giorgina, would you be good enough to get the cards?’

At this point the butler appeared; he looked thoroughly dumbfounded by the turn events were taking. ‘What is it now?’ asked Signora Gron, with ill-concealed irritation, ‘Has someone else arrived?’

‘It’s Antonio, the bailiff … he wants to speak to one of you, he says it’s important.’

‘I’ll go,’ said Stefano immediately, standing up quickly as though afraid of somehow being too late.

His wife did indeed hold him back. ‘No no, you stay here. It’s far too damp outside … you know quite well … your rheumatism … you stay here, dear. Fedri will go.’

‘It’ll only be the usual business,’ said the boy, walking towards the curtain. From the distance there came a confused sound of voices.

‘Are you going to play here?’ asked the signora in the interim. ‘Giorgina, take that vase away, please … then do go to bed, dear, it’s already late. And what are you going to do, Martora – go to sleep?’

The old man roused himself, embarrassed: ‘Had I fallen asleep? Yes, I believe I had, for a few minutes.’ He smiled. ‘The fireside, old age …’

‘Mother,’ the girl called from another corner of the room. ‘I can’t find the box of cards, they were here in the drawer yesterday.’

‘Open your eyes, my dear. What’s that on the side table? You never find anything …’

Massigher arranged the four chairs and began to shuffle the pack. At this point Fedri reappeared. Wearily, his father asked, ‘What did Antonio want?’

‘Absolutely nothing,’ answered the boy merrily. ‘Just the usual peasant’s panics. The river’s very swollen, they say the house is in danger – think of that. They wanted me to go and see – in this weather! They’re all praying there now, and ringing the bells – can you hear?’

‘Fedri, let’s go and see together,’ suggested Massigher. ‘Just for five minutes. Will you come?’

‘And what about our game, Massigher?’ enquired the signora. ‘So you’d leave Dr Martora in the lurch? And get a soaking too.’

So the four men began their game, Giorgina went to bed and her mother sat in a corner with her embroidery.

As the game progressed, the thuds they had heard earlier became more frequent. It sounded as if some heavy object were falling into a deep mud-filled hole, a sound of doom coming from the bowels of the earth. After each thud there was a feeling of unease, the players hesitated to play their cards, caught their breath, fumbled, but the tension vanished as quickly as it had come.