Chapter XLIV

They had dropped the Barone off at a villa with great gates, a gravelled drive and a house, which, since it was over six miles from any military objective, had the good fortune not to have been bombed.

The Colonel had said good-bye and Alvarito had told him to come down and shoot any, or every, weekend.

“You’re sure you won’t come in?”

“No. I must get back to Trieste. Will you give my love to Renata?”

“I will. Is that her portrait that you have wrapped in the back of the car?”

“It is.”

“I’ll tell her that you shot very well and that the portrait was in good condition.”

“Also my love.”

“Also your love.”

“Ciao, Alvarito, and thank you very much.”

“Ciao, my Colonel. If one can say ciao to a Colonel.”

“Consider me not a Colonel.”

“It is very difficult. Good-bye, my Colonel.”

“In case of any unforeseen contingencies would you ask her to have the portrait picked up at the Gritti?”

“Yes, my Colonel.”

“That’s all, I guess.”

“Good-bye, my Colonel.”