(continued from: “The Corsicans“)

As the door of the restaurant closed behind us, Catharina slipped her arm under my elbow and sisterly we walked towards The “Pensione Mirafiori” (bed & breakfast) that was recommended by the chef, and supposed to be just a few blocks away. The intimacy of the moment was felt by the both of us, but Catherina, obviously having more experience, was more at ease than I felt, at that moment in time. The evening temperature was still very warm, but I was actually quivering with excitement and anticipation of what the next day, or the coming night for that matter, would bring.

After knocking on a huge double door, a small door in the right half opened screeching, revealing a delicate old woman, smiling a most hospitable smile. As she ushered us in, she appeared to be slightly hunch backed. She lit a candle and told us to follow her through a long corridor. The candle flames exposed stunning frescoes on the walls. Their effect, because of the candle light and the echoes of our footsteps, was illusory. The door to our room was the last one on the end of the corridor. ‘Breakfast at 7,’ she spoke softly. After exchanging salutations for the night, she closed the door behind us.

Unexpectedly we heard a loud crashing noise produced by approaching thunder, followed by a torrential downpour of rain. Somehow the sounds of the elements, reverberating eerily in the antique house, were making us cuddle up close together in the large renaissance bed.

(to be continued)

• The Bishop – part two
• The Bishop – part three
• Latin Dreams – part two

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