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you old fool!” said the Chief. “If you had let me know who you were sharing the mountaintop with tonight, I could have brought one tent—by mistake, of course!”
    Rossini growled back: “You know I am too old for that sort of thing, my friend—although I will agree, she carries that first-rate mind of hers inside a first-rate package! I’ve known Isabella since she was a teen, though—even if I was so inclined, it would not feel right. Not to mention I’m sure she’s had better offers than this old carcass of mine.”
    The Chief sensed he had offended, so he changed topics. “Any chance of getting a small glimpse of what you have found?”
    Rossini smiled sadly. “I would love nothing better than to give you the grand tour, but it is just not possible yet. We’ll have some VIPs here in the morning. After we talk to them, maybe I’ll be able to tell you a bit more.” After a bit more conversation, he saw the police chief off and walked up the steps to the level where the chamber was. Isabella already had her tent mostly up, and he began pitching his own a few yards away. Before he was half done, hers was finished and she joined him. There were two small folding chairs inside the bag with the tents, so when they were finished setting up camp, they sat companionably beside each other and shared the delicious stromboli and bread that he found inside the grocery bags, washing them down with the last of the brandy from the old monks.
    “Well, we have a writing table, a manuscript, a curule chair, and some implements so far,” he said. “Then there is the lamp up in the niche on the wall. What else do you think we will find?”
    “I must admit, I am very curious about that large boxlike item at the back of the chamber,” Isabella replied. “What do you think it could be?”
    “Placement, size, and shape would argue for a cabinet of some sort, or a storage chest. But will there be anything in it?” wondered Rossini.
    “That is the real question, isn’t it?” she replied. “What we have found is truly remarkable, but I cannot help but wish for more. I don’t know that I will be able to sleep tonight!”
    They chatted pleasantly for another hour or so as the stars came out and the moon began to sink in the west. Isabella caught Rossini up on her most recent work, and after a while began to speak, a bit hesitantly, about the loss of her husband five years before. Rossini had spent a good bit of time with her shortly after the loss, and had tried to comfort her as best he could, but it had been several years since they spent any time together. This troubled him, because Isabella had gone to some lengths to comfort him when Carlotta, his wife of forty years, had died a decade before. He thought of the raw, aching grief he had felt for weeks afterward, and was sad for his beautiful young friend, who had barely had time to fall in love with her gentle young husband before he was cruelly taken from her. Giuseppe could tell by the raw tone of her voice as she tried to talk about those awful days after the crash that she was still missing Marc terribly, and that the loss of her father had compounded that sorrow. He found himself hoping that, before her grief made her old and bitter, she would someday find another man to love.
    After a while, her voice trailed off and he began to speak in turn. He spoke of his son, a career Italian army officer currently on duty in Sicily, and his only daughter, the wife of a rising young politician currently serving in the civic government of Turin. He did not see his children as frequently as he would have liked, but they were both fine young people and he was glad that they still enjoyed a close relationship. Whenever possible, he explained, he emailed them every night and kept them caught up on his life.
    Soon, however, their talk turned back to archeology and history, their mutual passion, and before long the moon had set and the stars blazed out in full glory. Then they both