I debated going over the Accademia Bridge and then making my way around to the Frari church, but there didn’t seem to be a direct route, and I was afraid of getting lost in the dying light. Then I remembered someone saying there was a traghetto at San Toma, and indeed, on my map, a dotted line was shown going across the Grand Canal there. I wasn’t sure what a traghetto was, but it seemed to be some sort of ferry. I decided to risk cutting through the Campo Santo Stefano, finally arrived at the Grand Canal and found a line of people waiting to cross. Then I saw the ferry: it was a gondola! The people ahead of me were helped down into it and remained standing, packed close to overloading while they were rowed across. Then the gondola came back, and I was included in the next trip. I found it somewhat unnerving to be standing up in a gondola, especially when a vaporetto passed us, throwing up a wake. But we made it safely, and from there it was no problem to find the Fondamenta del Forner. I was learning for the first time that a calle was a street, but a fondamenta was a street that ran beside a canal.

I rang the bell and was admitted. This building had a lift, and I was pleased to ride up to the third-floor apartment rather than manage the three flights of stairs. The professor himself opened the door to me, then led me through to a large room with windows that looked out across the city. At this hour, the sun had just set and the tiled roofs were bathed in rosy twilight. Swallows flitted low; seagulls wheeled above. It was a perfect scene. And the room behind the view was equally attractive: white modern furniture, a long, low sofa and walls decorated with modern art—great splashes of colour. I didn’t have time to examine these as Professor Corsetti introduced me to the assembled group.

“This is the young lady from England, Miss Browning.”

I looked around to see that Imelda, Gaston and Franz were already there. Henry was not. A woman came forward, arms open in welcome. “How happy we are that you’ve come to our home,” she said. “I am the professor’s wife, Angelica. Let me introduce you to our guests.”

I hadn’t expected guests other than my fellow students and wondered instantly if I should have worn the more formal evening dress. This was confirmed instantly as I was led to an older woman, who was wearing a stunning midnight-blue gown with matching jacket. At her neck was a sapphire necklace. She had a narrow face topped by boyishly cropped white hair and dark, intelligent eyes that examined me with interest. The effect was that of a bird of prey, a hawk maybe. Rather alarming.