She had finally persuaded Francis not to say anything about their relationship. “It is precisely the secrecy of our love that makes it special,” she said. “Flaunting your love to the world makes it vulgar. It loses something of its mystery.” Francis saw another advantage to keeping their relationship secret: It would shelter those dearest to him from his enemies. To tell the world what truly matters to you is to make yourself vulnerable.

*  *  *

Francis sighed. The loutish character he was forced to play was simply a façade. But, other than Annabelle, no one truly knew him. They did not know the violence and the death wish he carried within him. The rage that had first erupted in 1959, when he was fifteen, in the little village of Montaldicio. It had happened on a summer evening by the fountain on the village square. Some young guys had been drinking heavily. One of them was propositioning Annabelle. She had pushed him away several times, but still he tried to paw at her. Francis had been staying on the sidelines. The boys were much older than he was. They were painters and glaziers from Turin who had come to refurbish the hothouses of someone in the village. When he realized that no one else was going to intercede, he had walked over to them and told the guy to clear off. At fifteen, Francis was not very tall, and he often gave the impression that he was somewhat clumsy. When they had laughed at him, Francis grabbed the boy by the throat and punched him in the face. Despite his build, he had the strength of an ox and was fueled by rage. After the first punch, he had continued battering the young laborer and no one had been able to pull him off.

A speech impediment he had had since he was a child meant that he had never dared talk to Annabelle. The words caught in his throat. So that night, he talked with his fists. By smashing the young man’s face in, he was sending a message to Annabelle: No one will ever hurt you while I’m around.

By the time he finally stopped, the young man was unconscious, his face covered with blood, his mouth full of broken teeth.

The case caused a commotion in the area. Some days later, the carabinieri came to question Francis, but he had already left Italy for France.

When he met up with Annabelle again many years later, she thanked him for defending her but confessed that she was afraid of him. Nonetheless, they became close, and through her, Francis learned to control his violent temper.