“Flora?! You really saw her? You aren’t joking?” said Lia. A wave of emotion swept over us, enveloping even Pietro. As for me, my whole body tingled as though pierced with tiny needles, like my feet when I had begun to recover from frostbite. A fantasy asleep in some hidden center of myself seemed to have awakened. Before we could even make it to the door Flora was there. She had no baggage except for a huge leather handbag with oriental designs on it. She looked beaten and distressed, a couple of mud splotches on her coat, her smudged eye makeup furrowed with clear streaks as if spoiled by drops of sweat or tears. Still Flora hadn’t lost her old defiance and above all didn’t seem ready to give it up. Even though she was returning unaccompanied and almost without baggage, she still retained the appearance of a feudal lady. We tried to find out what had happened, but she gestured vaguely as if it were all foolishness, or else from capricious pride she didn’t want to tell us about a humiliating experience.
