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the house to prepare, cleaning his glasses: "What would you say about a Rat Cross?" Papa asked me.

"Sure. You were great!" 

He put on his glasses and: "Did you read the book, Daughter?" he asked. 

I wasn't expecting the question. But it was logical he would do it sooner or later, several days had passed since he had given it to me. "I've read parts of it," I said feeling vaguely guilty.

I looked at him and it seemed to me that his eyes had turned sad. "I thought it was preferable to dedicate it to Mary, you understand..." 

"Of course I understand: and your wife. You did well." 

"Have you read the dedication?" 

"It's a great dedication, Papa. Thank you." 

"Tell me what you think. Truly." 

"Honestly, I think the dialogues are a bit boring; that the young man and the girl sit a little too much at Harry's and the Gritti. The idea of ​​giving a painting seems to me from the nineteenth century, as well as uncomfortable for him: better a nice photo, in my opinion. But above all, in my opinion, such a girl does not exist: she should be pretty, respectable, from a good family, and she says: 'I go to mass every morning' and then drinks like a sponge and constantly slinks into hotel beds, oh no!"

"You have little experience, Adriana, but there are girls like that, I assure you. I have met many too."

"Maybe in America. But not in Italy and above all not in Venice." 

"They exist, Daughter. And everywhere." 

"Besides, it's boring. How can the colonel love such a boring girl?" Seeing his darkened face I was remorseful: after all he had made me such a beautiful dedication on the first special edition. "It's probably a good book." I said, "I just prefer the others."