“Oh, well, before you even get to Greece, have you seen the wonders of Paestum? In fact, if you should go to Paestum you could go on further down to Staffa in Calabria, where we have a small house in the hills above the sea and can’t get to just yet because of Frieda’s broadcast schedule. Go there and stay at our place and contemplate the sea and hills after the temples of Paestum if you want a full classical experience. From there you can cross Calabria to Bari and set off for Greece.”

“Is there good fish, or is it all polluted or sent up to Rome?” asked Tina.

“She has to make sure about the food before she’ll go anyplace.” Jason laughed.

“I’ll give you the name of my fisherman and the man in the village who saves his best wine for me. What more could you want?”

“Nothing more,” said Tina. “I’ll go!”

Tina sipped her wine and looked out over the hills; I have what I came for, she thought. A direction, Guido’s message.

It was evening when they got back to Rome.

“Let’s walk,” Tina said.

“We’re not far from the Film Studio,” Jason said, holding her hand. “They’re doing oldtime films there. Want to see a silent film called Cabiria with subtitles by D’Annunzio?”

“We can try,” she said.

They went to the little movie house in an alley off the street on which the Regina Coeli prison loomed. The place was half-full and they found seats toward the middle, slouching down on the hard wooden seats and looking up at the film that had already started. “Here,” she whispered and handed him a capsule, “put this under your tongue and let it dissolve.” Scenes of Carthage: children being burned in sacrifice to Moloch, Scipio Africanus and Roman legions to the attack, the suicide of the queen. Jason and Tina started to giggle. Soon they were laughing so hard the others started hissing and they got up to leave, stumbling over feet in the dark, clattering and banging and making gasping sounds as they choked down their laughter.

“What kind of trip is this?” Jason asked.

“Mescaline,” she said. “Duke gave me some before I left. I feel itchy all over, let’s walk.”

Jason took her hand. They went off toward Santa Maria in Trastevere, stopping on the way at Via Garibaldi to see if a friend from St. Gregory’s was home, but leaving after no one answered their knocks. At Santa Maria in Trastevere they sat on the steps of the fountain among the little groups of hippies and pushers and looked at the gold mosaic across the facade of the church that portrayed the parable of the handmaidens. Jason told the story of the wise virgins who trimmed their lamps and saved their oil. “Now, what should they do in regard to the six foolish virgins?” he asked.