She woke when the caterpillar moved from the collar of her dress onto her cheek, and she opened her eyes, saw him crouched over her. He plucked it from her face, not touching her skin, and placed it in the grass. She noticed he had already packed up his equipment.

“You were supposed to hold onto me!” She said.

“I did. Till you moved away.” 

“I wasn’t taken advantage of, was I?” Adding, “Just joking,” as she saw him beginning to blush. 

“Do you want to go down to the house?” 

“Yes, I’m hungry.” 

She could hardly stand up, the dazzle of sun, her tired legs. How long they had been there she still didn’t know. She could not forget the depth of her sleep, the lightness of the plummet. 

A party began in the English patient’s room when Caravaggio revealed the gramophone he had found somewhere. 

“I will use it to teach you to dance, Hana.

Your young friend who doesn’t drink managed to find bottles of wine yesterday in San Domenico. We have not just music. Give me your arm.

“What happened to you today?”

“He dismantled a large bomb, a difficult one. Let him tell you about it.”