[...] “Have you thought that you’ll never be able to have a family of your own, children?” I said. “That you’re destroying your future for something that will end soon, you understand, it will end in any case. You’ll never be happy.” “And you, are you happy?” she asked me, harshly. I had tears in my eyes because the conversation had moved me, exhausted me. “Of course,” I said emphatically, “I’m happy, I’ve always been happy, very happy.” She stared at me tenderly with a gaze that made me want to lower mine. “How good you are, mamma!” she exclaimed. She said good night with a quick hug and I followed her along the hall like a beggar. “Why do you want to be so hard, so bitter, Mirella?” I whispered. I heard her close the door, and I went back to the dining room. Shattered, I collapsed onto a chair, rested my head on my arms crossed on the table. I imagined going to the telephone, calling Guido, telling him to come right away. I imagined going to talk to Cantoni. I couldn’t wait for morning so that I could act. It almost seemed to me that if I could stand up morning would come sooner. And yet I had a feeling of nausea, of rejecting every action. Unaware, I fell asleep. When I roused myself, it was dawn.