A Noble Radiance (32 page)

He smiled at this and
shook his head. 'No, it's not. But you know what I mean.' When Paola didn't
answer, he asked, 'Don't you?'

She nodded and
squeezed his hand. 'Yes.' And then again, ‘Yes.'

'What would you do?'
he asked her suddenly.

Paola released his
hand and brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across her eyes. 'What do
you mean? If I were a judge? Or if I were Roberto's mother? Or if I were you?'

He smiled again.
'That sounds like you're telling me to leave it alone, doesn't it?'

Paola stood and then
bent to pick up the newspapers. She folded and stacked them, then turned to
the bed. 'I've been thinking lately about the Bible,' she said, amazing
Brunetti, who knew her to be the most unreligious of people.

'That part about an
eye for an eye,' she continued. He nodded, and she went on. 'In the past, I
always looked at it as one of the worst things that particularly unpleasant god
had to say, crying for vengeance, thirsting after blood.' She pulled the papers
towards her breast and glanced away from him, considering how to phrase this.

She looked down at
him. 'But recently ifs occurred to me that what it might be enjoining us to is
just the opposite.'

‘I don't understand,'
he said.

'That instead of
demanding an eye and a tooth, ifs really telling us that there are limits; that,
if we lose an eye, we can't ask anything more than a eye, and if we lose a
tooth, then all we can get is a tooth, not a hand or,' and here she paused
again, 'a heart.' She smiled again, bent down and kissed his cheek, the
newspapers crinkling in protest.

When she stood, she
said, ‘I’ll tie these into a bundle. Is the string in the kitchen?'

'Yes, it is,' he
answered.

She nodded and left
the room.

Brunetti picked up
his glasses and his copy of Cicero and went back to reading. More than an hour
later’ the phone rang, but someone picked it up before he could answer it.

He waited for a
minute, but Paola didn't call him. He returned his attention to Cicero; there
was no one who could call that he wanted to talk to.

A few minutes later,
Paola came into the bedroom. 'Guido’ she said, 'that was Vianello’

Brunetti put his book
face down on the covers and peered at her over the top of his glasses. 'What?' he
asked.

'Countess Lorenzoni’
Paola began, then closed her eyes and stopped.

‘What?'

'She's hanged herself.'

Before giving it
thought, Brunetti whispered, 'Ah, the poor man’