Night stayed black. No stars but faint spirals of smoke. Helicopters cast light across darkened rooftops, the rhythmic chug of rotor blades against the air. Ulysses held the umbrella above the contessa whilst she looked through the telescope. She said she was scared during the war. Scared like this, she said. She said not many people had liked Arturo Bernadini, but she had. She said he was a man worth saving. She said she’d watched Ulysses climb onto the roof all those years ago. She thought he was brave. Strange, but brave. And you were so young. I think the helicopters are rescuing people from the rooftops, she added. Maybe they need you over there too.
They camped out in the salotto. A candelabra, a bottle of grappa close to an elderly woman’s hand and a parrot singing show tunes.
Does he often do that? said the contessa.
Ulysses shrugged.
What’s that noise? said the contessa.
Where?
Out there, she said, pointing.
Ulysses got up and opened the shutters. Michele at his window with a candle. Names were being shouted across the square. Signor, Signora Bruni? he called out. Signor Carrai?
The flicker of lights appeared in the darkness. Sì. Qui!
Are you all right, Signora Buonarroti? Sì sì.
Signor Conti? Sì. Qui! Another candle.
Signora Moretti?
One by one candles appeared at the windows, human stars across a watery night.
And then Ulysses heard it. Not Soldato this time, nor Signor Temper, but Ulisse. He raised his candle and shouted, I’m here, I’m well! He said that the contessa was with him. That she too was well.
A sudden cry across the square: I’m Signor Lami and I have no candles! Where are you, signore? West side. Top floor. Five along from Michele.
Wave something white, shouted Ulysses and he waited.
I see you! shouted Ulysses. Open both windows, signore, and keep waving!
Ulysses turned to Claude. Here, Claudie, and he picked him up. Over there, he said. You see the white in the window? Follow my finger, Claude. Just there?
Claude squawked. Good boy.
Ulysses grabbed a candle from the box and held it in front of him. This needs to go over there, he said. Think you can do it, Claude?
By now the contessa was following events avidly. Che straordinario! she kept saying. Che straordinario!
Think you can, Claude?
Claude squawked.
Ulysses placed the candle carefully in the parrot’s beak and positioned him out of the window. Over there, he whispered. Straight over.
Keep waving, Signor Lami! he shouted. And stand back when you see the parrot!
Go, Claude, go!
Whoosh!
A flash of blue and yellow in the gloom and what a sight he was! The weight of the candle caused a sudden drop in altitude and there was a sharp intake of breath from the contessa as Claude’s chest feathers skimmed the black lake, but then he rose. Oh, how magnificently he rose! He circled the square twice until the flight path had been worked out and the landing zone calculated: 10 feet … 9 feet … Straighten, straighten … Decrease speed.
You can do it, whispered Ulysses.
You can do it, whispered the contessa.
Ulysses shouted to Signor Lami to stand back and suddenly Claude disappeared through the open window. There was a sound of broken glass. Anxious seconds passed.
You sure the man opened the window? said the contessa.
（He had. It was simply that he was surprised by the appearance of so large a parrot that he dropped a wine bottle.） Look! shouted the elderly contessa. He did it!
And he had. Where previously darkness had reigned was now light.
Claude launched back out into the sky. He flew high, as high as the campanile, and he glided on the still point, the rush of air a silent and ancient sound, heard first inside his egg. The calling to break free. The splintering of the shell. That first indescribable gulp of air. Oh, what it was to fly! He perched on the head of Cosimo R. adrift in the Arno sea, where he would remain witness to the night, watching over his people till land appeared again out of the primordial vortex that once had birthed life itself. They may even erect a statue of him. Now wouldn’t that be something?
10 p.m. news broadcast:
Florence is a lake. 10 feet of water in the Piazza del Duomo. Families calling out from second-floor windows. All afternoon helicopters have been rescuing stranded people from rooftops. Women and children only. Men left on the roofs. Pisa has taken the full force of the deluge across its plain and has asked Florence for help. Florence can’t even help herself.
Ulysses turned off the radio. The contessa said, We have a long night ahead of us.
（At this point Ulysses realised the woman had no intention of going home.）