“For one thing I’m only fifteen.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. She thought he was masking disappointment, repositioning. “We can still be friends, can’t we? Even if you’re just fifteen.”

“I guess so.”

He glanced around the square, breaking the slight tension. “Look at that. It’s January, and they’re still stocking Befana dolls.” There was a stall stocked with them next to an old painted wooden merry-go- round, around which small children clustered.

Befana was the sister of Santa Claus. She wore a kerchief and glasses, and carried a broom. She had missed the Three Wise Men on their way to visit the baby Jesus. In recompense she brought presents for good Italian children on the twelfth day of Christmas — and for the bad ones, bits of coal.

“To me she looks kind of like a witch,” Daniel said.

“You don’t have Befana in America?”

“No. I grew up with the Coca-Cola Santa Claus. But that was okay.”

“We always had Befana, without Santa.” It was true. Christmas was celebrated in the Crypt; there were great mass parties in the theaters and meeting halls where the age groups would mingle, and games and competitions would be played. And there were presents, toys and games and clothes, even bits of jewelry, cosmetics, and clothes, commercially bought, for the older ones. But Befana, a woman, was the central figure, not Christ or Santa, and the great celebration was always on Twelfth Night, the Feast of the Epiphany.

The waiter delivered their tea.

Daniel said, “You mentioned we ? You mean your family? Let’s see. There’s you, and Pina, and your aunt from the Pantheon …”

“More than that.” She managed a smile. “We’re a big family.”

He smiled back. “It’s nice to see you look a little less worried. So, your family. What do your parents do?”

How could she answer that? I’ve never spoken to my father. My mother is a hundred years old … There was so much she could tell him; there was nothing she could tell him. He was, after all, a contadino.

He saw her hesitating, and began, smoothly, to tell her of his own upbringing. His father, as he’d told her, was a diplomat who had had a series of postings with NATO and the American diplomatic corps, culminating in his nine years in Italy. Daniel had seen a lot of the world, especially in his early years, and had decided he wanted to study politics himself.

“I always liked this square,” he said.

“Me, too.”

“It’s got the kind of depth of history I like about Europe. I know that’s an obvious thing for an American to say.”

“Well, I never met an American before.”

Reassured, he said, “It’s built on a stadium, put up by the Emperor Domitian. Did you know that? The stadium fell into ruin, and the stones were hauled off to make houses and churches and whatnot. But the foundations were still here, and the houses were built on top of them, so the square keeps the original shape of the racetrack.” He shook his head. “I love that. People living for two thousand years in the ruins of a sports stadium. It gives you a sense of continuity — of depth. Do you know what I mean?”

“I think so,” she said seriously. She felt baffled by his rapidfire speech. How could she match such perceptions? She felt stupid, malformed, a child; she was afraid to open her mouth for fear of making a fool of herself.

He rambled to a halt, and looked at her shyly. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

That made her laugh. “You are always apologizing. What are you sorry for now?”

“Because I’m boring you. I’m a seventeen-year-old bore. My brother says this is why I’ll never get a girl. I always lecture them. I’m full of bullshit.” He used the English word. “But it’s just that I think about this stuff so hard. It just comes out … You know, you’re beautiful when you laugh. And you’re also beautiful when you are serious. It’s true. I think we should always say what’s true, don’t you? That’s what I noticed about you in the Pantheon. Your skin is pale, but there is a kind of translucence about it …”

She could feel her cheeks burn, something warm move inside her. “I like your seriousness. We should be serious about the world.”

“So we should.” He was watching her. The light was fading a little now, and his face seemed to float in the glow of the lights from the cafй ’s interior. “But not serious all the time. Something’s troubling you, isn’t it?”

She looked away sharply. “I can’t say.”

“Okay. But it’s something to do with your sister, and your aunt … Your mysterious family.”

She folded and unfolded her fingers. “It’s a matter of duty.”

“Are they trying to get you to do something you don’t want to do? What — an arranged marriage of some kind? I’ve heard of that in southern Italian families.” He was fishing.

“I can’t say anything.” She didn’t even know herself.

Suddenly he covered her hand with his. “Don’t be upset.”

His skin was hot, his grip firm; she felt the touch of his palm on the back of her fingers. “I’m not upset.”

“I don’t know what to say to you.” He withdrew his hand; the air felt cold. “Look, you may or may not believe it, but I’ve no designs on you. You’re a beautiful girl,” he said hastily. “I don’t mean that. Anybody would find you beautiful. But — there’s something about you that draws me in. That’s all. And now I’m a little closer to you, I can see there’s something hurting in there. I want to help you.”

Suddenly the intensity of the moment overwhelmed her. “You can’t.” She stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom.”

He was crestfallen. “You won’t come back.”

“I will.” But, she found, she wasn’t sure if she would.

“Here.” He produced a business card from a pocket. “This is my cell number. Call me if you need anything, anything at all.”

She held the card between thumb and forefinger. “I’m only going to the bathroom.”

He smiled weakly. “Well, in case you get lost on the way. Put it in your bag. Please.”

She smiled, slipped it into her bag, and moved into the shop. When she glanced back she could see his face, his blue eyes following her.

In the event, she didn’t even make it as far as the bathroom.

They converged on her, Pina on one side, Rosa on the other. They grabbed her arms. Rosa’s face was set and furious, but Pina seemed more regretful. They immediately began to march her out toward an open door at the back of the shop. There was absolutely nothing Lucia could do about it.

Lucia said to Pina, “You promised you wouldn’t tell.”

“I didn’t promise anything. You made me think you were over this stupid crush.”

“You followed me.”

“Yes, I followed you.”

They passed into the street, and Lucia found herself bundled into a car. Lucia couldn’t even see if Daniel was still watching. She would never know, she thought, if she would have gone back to him.

“Pina was right to call me,” Rosa said. “I’m glad somebody has some sense.”

Lucia shouted, “Can’t you leave me alone?”

“No,” Rosa said simply.

“I just wanted to see him. I was curious.”

“Really? Curious about what, Lucia? Where did you think this little liaison would lead? Do you really have a crush on this boy, this Daniel? But you’ve only just met him. Do you want to fall in love? Do you want romance so badly that you’ll approach a perfect stranger—”

“Stop it,” Lucia said. She tried to hide her face in her hands.

But Rosa wouldn’t let up. “Listen to me. You are part of the Order. In the Order, there is no room for love or romance. In the Order, efficiency is everything.”

Lucia, forced to look at her, tried to understand what she was saying. “Efficiency in what?”