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"I've been there. Without Hemingway. Was Clara still in the hospital while she was in Havana or had she already returned home?" I asked. It was already the second time she had tried to kill herself, poor thing, and if she kept insisting one day or another she would have succeeded, I thought while waiting for the colonel to answer. 

"Clara?... I don't remember if she was back. Your palace is on the Grand Canal, right?" the colonel said.

Strange that Papa didn't tell him I didn't live on the Grand Canal. But why should he tell him, after all? He certainly had more important things to talk about with his colonel friend. 

"Did you wage war together?" I asked.

"No, but we're from the same regiment. Will you have breakfast with me today? You know, I don't know anyone. This is the first time I've come to Venice." 

"All right." I said, putting out my cigarette and added, "Thanks." 

"Are you ok with the Gritti?" the colonel asked.

"Why the Gritti, since we're here? Anyway we have time to decide. Now tell me about the Finca..." the waiter put the glasses on the table and smiled at me. The waiter was always very kind to me. 

"Cheers!" the colonel said as he raised his martini. "This is my first time in Venice. Beautiful city. Do you live here all year round?"

"Not quite all year round. In winter I go skiing, I often go to the countryside..." 

"...across the River?"

"Beyond the river if you come from Trieste. On this side if you come from Venice." I don't like this colonel. Yet he must certainly be nice because he is a friend of Papa. 

"I came to Venice on purpose to meet you."