she yelled happily, while the wind made it nearly impossible to hear her voice clearly.

“So where are we going?” Marco shouted in return.

In a few seconds, the motorcycle was stopped again at the next stoplight on Via Marchese di Villabianca, and the girl said:

“How about Mount Pellegrino? It will take us about twenty minutes to get there, and at this time of day, there should be hardly anyone there. I've heard that at the top, close to the statue of Mary, it's lovely and very calm. We'll be able to talk there.”

“It's not Mary, it's Saint Rosalia.”

“Are you sure?”

“No! Anyway, that can be done,” he concluded; and he took off again