15

Fulvio. Italianismo, hidden among the ruins, listened to the women speaking Mandarin Chinese. Well, then it was true, !it WAS TRUE! He could face everything, for it was true. The joy he had could not fit in his chest.

So much time denying it, so much time rejecting it; but it was true. What didn't fit him was that mission in the American prisoners' jail. Another one? A lover? His gaze clouded for an instant. Already in the same spirit of fun that he faced this war, he would face it and build for both of them. He had to play the best game of his life. A game where he alone understood and played. If he had attached himself to Badoglio's republic; he would be imprisoned with the Italians of Tientsin. If he wanted his ideas to triumph, he should be the sole representative of Mussolini's Cisalpine republic. Ironies. Yes, ironies.

Fulvio continued to drive into the ruins with cool indifference to the conversations between the two women, who were casually mocking him at his expense.