"Don't worry about me. I will die soon enough and go to be with your father and with your poor brothers.""You're not dying," Pasquale said.
"I am dead already inside," she said. "You should push me out into the sea and drown me like that old sick cat of yours."
Pasquale straightened. "You said my cat ran away. While I was at university."
She shot him a glance from the corner of her eye. "It is a saying."
"No. It's not a saying. There is no saying such as that. Did you and Papa drown my cat while I was in Florence?"
"I'm sick, Pasqo! Why do you torment me?"
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