Aeolus grows bored with the vicissitudes of the islanders and casts his eyes northwards. Naples, a crowded crucible of discontent slumbering in the shadow of Vesuvius, will provide greater amusement for his capricious energies. He has vented his frustrations upon the steep flanks of the città and once more the cathedral of San Bartolo has withstood his assault.
In the Via Maddalena, the residents have bolted their doors and shuttered their windows, and the Marina Corta is deserted when Ric strolls back through it to his monolocale. Like Aeolus, his thoughts are taken with the constant changes in his fortune and he can see no way out of his maze of alternatives. Tonight though, he does not care if he is being followed through the narrow alleys. Whether it is Aeolus, Marcello or Commissario Talaia who is watching him, Ric is too tired to care.
Once inside the front room, he drops onto the small sofa and falls deeply asleep.