Panic flooded me as I clung to Ricciotti. “Menotti! Teresita!” I called as the throng of people continued to close in around me, like a rushing river. The choking smells of heavy perfume, sweat, and roasting meats nauseated me. All of the faces that I tried to shove past made my head swim. I just needed to find my children.

Tears began to well. I turned around in circles looking for the familiar faces of my son and daughter. Just when all hope seemed lost, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder.

“I believe these two belong to you.” Menotti and Teresita wrapped their arms around my legs. Relief washed over me as I savored the feeling of having them close.

“Here, let me help you,” said a tall man with a deep olive complexion, his dark hair slicked back. Dressed in the fine clothing of a gentleman, he spoke like an official as he cleared a path for us. I followed behind, continuing to examine him. He wore a silver-trimmed sword, and his shiny boots clinked as he walked along the pavement. He led us back to José, grabbing my husband’s shoulder. José turned around, looking at the man with pure delight. They embraced as old friends before José and the rest of us followed the man toward a large gilded carriage, away from the throng of people.

“I am terribly sorry. I have not had the opportunity to introduce myself. I am Paolo Antonini,” the man said to me with a flourished bow.

“Paolo is a comrade in the struggle for a unified Italy. His family will be our sponsors while we stay in Genoa,” José said as we entered the carriage. Paolo was a fellow member of the Carbonari, the Austrian resistance, José continued to explain. While my boisterous husband had managed to find himself exiled, Paolo had gone underground. He felt the best way to undermine the Austrians was to do so without being seen. With the help of his brother who resided in Rio de Janeiro, he smuggled goods in and out of Genoa, bypassing the high taxes. He also had a knack for procuring whatever the resistance needed.

“Yes, what an honor to be living in such an exciting time. Senhora, I hope you will feel comfortable in my home. It is not much, but it will have all of your basics.”

“Thank you, senhor. I am sure we will be quite at home.” I smiled.

José and Paolo made small talk as our carriage rolled through the bumpy streets of Genoa. Past the bustling marketplaces and grand buildings in the center of town. Through the winding streets that climbed the steep hills surrounding the crystal-blue bay, which reflected the sky. It seemed every Genoan waved to us as we went by. The children hung their heads out the window, oohing and ahhing as we rode along. Our carriage stopped at the gates of a large red brick house trimmed in white. The long drive was bordered with triangular trees in deep green hues that stood out in sharp contrast to the grand house.