Nothing, however, could be discerned, except the crumbling brickwork. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. “Glaciers?” she said. “Do you understand what I am talking about? It’s no good if you don’t. . She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes.
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