At first sight, Piero thought that it probably did not, so still did it lie. He approached the bundle and gave it a tentative prod. It groaned softly, but didn't move. He frowned. A woman from the sound of it.

'Hey!' He tapped again and she rolled a little way so that he could discern a face. It was pale and drawn, and in this light that was all he could make out.

'Come with me,' he said in Italian.

For a moment she stared at him out of blank eyes, and he wondered if she had understood. Then she began to haul herself up, making no protest, asking no questions.

He half guided, half supported her away from the bridge, in to an alley, which turned into another alley and then into another, and another. To the casual eye they looked identical, all cold, narrow, gleaming with rain. But he found his way between them easily.

The woman with him barely noticed. Her heart was like a frozen stone in her body, numbing all feeling except despair.

Once she stumbled and he held her safe, muttering, 'Not much farther.'

She could see now that they had reached the rear entrance of a building. There was just enough light to reveal that it was palatial. There was a large set of ornate double doors, maybe twelve feet high. But he passed these and led her to a much smaller door.

At first it stuck, but when he put his shoulder to it, with a movement that was half a push, half a shake, it yielded. Inside there was a torch, which he used to find the rest of the way.

Their footsteps sounded hollow on the tiled floors, giving her the sense of a grandiose building. She had a brief impression of a sweeping staircase and a wall with pale spaces where there had once been pictures.

A palace, but a shabby, abandoned palace.

At last he led her into a small room, where there were an armchair and a couple of sofas. Gently he guided her to one.

'Thank you,' she whispered, speaking for the first time.