. . Wait: at the Castello di Costantino. That’s it. Delightful. In the glassed-in hall, with the whole countryside in view … the Albani mountains … the Castelli romani … and then, opposite, the Palatine . . . Yes, yes, there . . . it’s enchanting! Without a doubt!”

“I’m for the Castello di Costantino,” Raceni said. “Let’s go there tomorrow to make the arrangements. I think we’ll be about thirty. Listen, Giustino has been particularly insistent. . . .”

“Who is Giustino?”

“Her husband, I told you, Giustino Boggiolo. He’s insisting on the press. He would like a lot of journalists. I invited Lampini. . . .”

“Ah, Ciceroncino, bravo!”

“And I think another four or five, I don’t know: Bardozzi, Centanni, Federici, and . . . what’s his name? the one who writes for the Capitate. . . .”

“Mola?”

“Mola.