IV + 

Roberto, the wine-waiter, was the first to leave the Doric, and before he went he said to Gian-Luca: “Now I may realize the dream of my life, now I may learn how to fly. As a child I would watch the birds in the air, I would think: ‘If only I too had wings.’⁠—Well, now my country shall provide me with wings; I shall ask to join the Air Service.” + 

Gian-Luca looked down at the little man with interest; so Roberto was longing to fly. Roberto had never shown signs of any longings; he had just been very neat, very skillful, very quick, with a most retentive memory for a vintage; and all the time he had been longing for wings, longing to conquer the air⁠—perhaps he had longed to fly out of the Doric⁠—what a curious thing was life. + 

A few weeks later went Giovanni, the trancheur, and he too confided in Gian-Luca. The war was loosening all tongues it seemed. + 

“I hope I may never come back⁠—” said Giovanni. “I shall try to get killed very soon.” + 

“Madonna! But why?” inquired Gian-Luca, startled. “You are such a wonderful trancheur, Giovanni; Millo will certainly keep your place open⁠—what have you got to complain of?” + 

Giovanni looked away: “It is not that, my friend, I know I am an excellent trancheur⁠—but when a man has a great pain in his heart⁠—” + 

“Not that girl who married the porter, surely!” + 

“Ma si, my Anna,” Giovanni nodded gravely. + 

Gian-Luca stared incredulously at him⁠—all this sorrow it seemed, over Anna. Anna had not even been attractive, a red-haired girl with the eyes of a fox⁠—and after the first not a sigh from Giovanni, not a tremor of that long, thin, accurate knife. What a curious thing was love. + 