She smiled. “My darling, nobody knows I am Jewish. And those who do value what I offer this city and will conveniently forget. So don’t worry. I am quite safe. It is you that I worry about.”

“I think I’ll be all right,” I said. “Leo instructed me on how to say, ‘Of course I have my identity card’ and other useful and not so polite things in Venetian. Most of the enforcers are from the south and can’t understand the language.”

She reached out then and laid her slim and bony hand on my knee. “Then there is a small favour I wish to ask of you.”

“Of course,” I said. “You have done so much for me.”

“There is a person I wish you to meet at the station. Josef is no longer with me. I have sent him on to a friend. Umberto is too old to go rushing around, and besides, he does not approve of what I do. My only other servant at the moment is the little maid, and she would be hopeless.”

“What about Vittorio?” I asked. “I haven’t seen him recently. Is he not here?”

“I told you once that Vittorio knows who butters his bread,” she said, giving me a little smile. “He has latched himself on to Mussolini’s inner circle. It seems they are interested in acquiring art, one way or another.”

“Oh dear,” I said, actually feeling relieved that he was not going to be hanging around her. “Very well. I’ll be happy to meet this person for you.”

“She is the daughter of Anton Gottfried, the former first violinist of the Vienna Staatsoper orchestra. Her father is under house arrest in Vienna and fears for his safety, but he wants to get Hanni away. And a chance has presented itself. The girl attended a Franciscan convent school until she was barred from doing so. The nuns are fond of her, it seems. Two of them are leading a pilgrimage to Rome this week and have agreed to take Hanni along. When the train stops in Milan, she will be put on a train to Venice. She arrives around noon on Friday. Can you meet her for me?”

“Of course,” I said. “What does she look like?”

“I have no idea.” The contessa laughed. “A Jewish girl of around twelve from Vienna. And I’m not sure if she speaks anything other than German. Do you speak any of that language?”

“I’m afraid not. But maybe she has learned English or French in school.”

“Let us hope so, or we shall have a difficult few days.” She smiled. “I’ll try to remember my Yiddish, but I haven’t spoken it since I was a young child.” Then the smile faded. “Let’s hope they do not choose to do identity checks on that particular train.”