The sun has yet to heat up the day, and ’tis pleasant here in the freshness of the morning. Domenico removes his spectacles and stares at me. ‘You’ve done well, my dear. These poems are a credit to you.’ ‘Grazie, caro. I work so hard at my writing; I long to reveal my soul in my verses.’ I pause. Dare I ask? ‘Forgive me pestering you, my friend, but would you have time to look at my book of letters? They’re only in rough form. I would have brought them to you sooner, but both my sons have had measles and I’ve been occupied nursing them.’ ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I hope your boys are recovered.’ ‘They are well, grazie. Very excited because this afternoon Signor Ludovico Ramberti is taking us for a sail to Malamocco.’ ‘Ah! I envy you getting out on the open water in this hot weather. I shall be pleased to read your letters, Veronica.’ ‘There are two sonnets at the front of the book that his gracious Majesty Henri III accepted from me before he left my house.’ ‘He did you an honour.’ ‘That he did.’ And well he should have after the service I gave him.
