I could hardly refuse. I mumbled something about lots of work for school, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “If you wish to become an artist of note, you must mix with the best,” she said. And so I agreed to attend. At least I was no longer at risk of being taken sick in public. As we ate, I considered how strange it was that she would be hosting soirées with famous painters while the rest of Europe was already at war.

After we had taken our leave, again with kisses on both cheeks and my absolute promise that I would be there at the soirée, I walked home across the square. Clouds had gathered while we took our tea, and a hard, cold rain stung my face. I slipped into the shelter of the colonnade. The whole experience with the contessa had been surreal, and the rain was a reminder that real life was hard and it stung.

Leo had taken to coming to the small trattoria where I ate my lunch. On the doctor’s advice, I had moved from vegetable soup to pasta at lunchtime. Filling and cheap.

“You are looking well,” Leo commented the last time we met. “Blooming, in fact.”

I gave him a half-amused look. He became serious.

“Julietta, I want to do more. Tell me what I can do.”

I could hardly say, “Get rid of Bianca and marry me,” could I? We were sitting together at a table in a dark corner where we couldn’t be overheard, and most of our conversation was in English, but all the same I glanced around.

“When the time comes, you will help me find the right home for our child,” I said.

He nodded. “But you will need help. At least I want to give you financial support so that you don’t have to worry.”

“You don’t need to,” I said, suddenly angry.

He looked hurt. “But I want to. Do you think I do not feel horribly responsible? Guilty?”

“Leo, you are no more guilty than I am,” I said. “We are both equally responsible.”

“Right, but you carry the burden and I walk away whistling. That does not seem fair, does it?” He reached across the small table and took my hand. “I am going to set up a small account for you at my bank—the Bank of San Marco. I will arrange for money to be put in every month, to cover your needs.”

“But won’t your family object? They are sure to notice.”

He shook his head. “I have a private account, separate from my family, separate from my wife. I will arrange everything. Don’t worry. If you need to move, you can get your own place.”