The old lady looked weary and tired but her tears had dried up and she had regained her composure. I could see that her face had certain, distinct aristocratic features that I hadn’t noticed before, and she suddenly looked less frail and old to me than during my initial impression. Involuntarily I had to think of Catharina’s remarks directed at Giselle the day before about Catharina de Medici. And even though I had never seen a portrait of her, I could clearly imagine that this woman could look very much like her.

Catharina suggested we could go and visit the convent where her sister resides on our own behalf. This way we could at least call her afterwards and give her our notion of the state of affairs concerning her sister. ‘If there is anything that looks really wrong to us, than I will ask my uncle Salvatore, who lives in Florence, to look into this affair. He owns a regional garbage collection and incineration company, and has some influence over local authorities…, besides being a wonderful person, my late father’s brother,’ she added with a giggle. The old lady’s face twitched briefly, as she considered Catia’s words, but somehow it looked as if it gave her renewed confidence, and she gladly accepted her offer.

After exchanging contact information and courtesies, we got off the train in Livorno, and bade the old lady goodbye. She said she would be in Rome for another few days, in order to arrange for an earlier flight back to Chicago. It was during our goodbye that we actually introduced ourselves formally. The old lady said ‘Oh, please don’t call me Signora Colonna, my name is Brunella.’

We waved at her while she stood at the window in her compartment, smiling at us faintly as the train departed for Rome on schedule, and slowly gained speed. I looked at the hand written scrap of paper she gave us with the address of the convent and the name of her sister, Lauredana Colonna. ‘Sounds like a Corsican name,’ Catia said. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but this whole affair made me hungry, and as I was talking about my uncle Salvatore, I remembered he once took us to a Restaurant here in Livorno that was really amazing!’ ‘And if my memory serves me well, it’s Corsican too. So much for coincidence, hihihi!’

Brunella could barely feel how two strong arms picked her up as if she had no weight at all, before passing out again. When she woke up she found herself in a semi dark room, between clean white sheets. The person hovering over her, later appeared to be a physician. He finished examining her and turned around and spoke in a low voice to the other persons in the room, who turned out to be the estate’s gardener and his wife. Brunella could make out only fragments of the conversation that took place… ‘Internal hemorrhaging… save the right eye… extreme trauma… don’t know if she’ll…..’ Then she heard her sister’s soft voice close to her ear: ‘You’re gonna be fine Bruna, don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.’ The drugs that were administered kicked in, and Brunella fell into a dreamless sleep.

(to be continued)

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