An ancient woman with a horrible odor passed by me, dressed in red and holding a cat that was red too, bony and blind in one eye. She was chanting a singsong verse in Sicilian, which went something like this:

Via Etnea is the place to stroll: A wealth of light, if truth be told. Hordes of people milling about; Those guys in jeans just hanging out. They strut their stuff as on display In front of each and every cafe. At night Catania so lovely seems, Shining beneath the bright moonbeams.

The mountaintop is red with fire; Its heat to lovers proves most dire.

She walked like a ghost, at a snail's pace, her eyes staring wildly, and I stood watching her, my curiosity piqued, as I waited for them to get out of the car. The woman brushed against the sleeve of my overcoat, and I felt a weird shudder. Our eyes met for the briefest instant, but it was so intense and so eloquent that I was afraid, really afraid, crazed. Her lively, sidelong glance wasn't in the least obtuse. It spoke: "Inside you shall discover death. You shall never recover your heart, girl, you shall die, and some man will toss earth on your grave. Not even a flower, not a single one."

I had gooseflesh; that witch had cast a spell on me. But I didn't heed her. I smiled at the two guys who came toward me, handsome and dangerous.

Pino could barely stand up. He remained silent the entire time. Nor did Roberto and I speak as much as we usually did.

Roberto pulled a huge ring of keys from his pants pocket and slipped one into the lock. The portal creaked, he had to apply some force to open it, and finally it closed noisily behind us.

I didn't say a word; I didn't have any questions. I knew quite well what we were about to do. We climbed a timeworn staircase. The walls of the palazzo seemed so fragile I was afraid they might suddenly give way and kill us; the countless cracks let in a white light, making the blue walls appear diaphanous. We stopped at a door through which I could hear music.