He was Marcello, he had told her that, but when she asked what other name he had, he looked at her blankly at first, and then an expression of painful effort came over his face, and she would not disturb him any more.

He could not remember.

He did not know how he had come to the inn door; he had been walking in the Campagna alone and had felt tired.

He knew no more.
If only she could get him to Rome.

It was not more than seven or eight miles to the city, and Regina had often been there with Nanna.