Page 98 of The Last Warrior

e se l’amassi indarno,

andrei sul Ponte Vecchio,

ma per buttarmi in Arno!

Mi struggo e mi tormento!

O Dio, vorrei, morir!”

Somewhere amid the song, another voice had started to harmonize along with hers. Could it be? Yes, it was Irena. Irena was here, raising her voice along with Suzette, as though to give Suzette confidence. Glancing quickly behind her, Suzette met her grandmother’s gaze, and, for a moment, her spirits lifted. Looking forward again, Suzette saw the two men were no longer fighting; indeed, they looked as though they were both held in suspension.

The aria had only the one verse, and she began to repeat it, only this time Cody’s Wild West band had arranged themselves back in the arena. Though slow to start, they began to play along with her. Stepping right up to the two men, Suzette came down onto her knees beside Black Lion. He was bleeding from the hip, but he sat up in recognition of her. So she sang, the pleading in the song perfect, for it fit the pleading in her heart:

“O mio babbino care,

mi piace è bello, bello;

vo andare in Porta Rossa

a comperar l’anello!

Sì, sì, ci voglio andare!

e se l’amassi indarno,

andrei sul Ponte Vecchio,

ma per buttarmi in Arno!

Mi struggo e mi tormento!

O Dio, vorrei, morir!”

Midway through the song, another voice joined hers. It was low, it was male. Black Lion sang every word along with her as though he had been born Italian.

She touched Black Lion’s face, running her fingers slowly down his cheek to his breast. It was the only way she knew to demonstrate her love for him. How she loved this man, and if it were destined that she were to lose him, she would have him know of her devotion.

Glancing up at the Thunderer, she saw the hatred still etched within his gaze. But still, he did nothing, and it gave her hope. With full accompaniment now, she sang the song once again:

“O mio babbino caro,

mi piace è bello, bello;

vo’andare in Porta Rossa

a comperar l’anello!

Sì, sì, ci voglio andare!

e se l’amassi indarno,

andrei sul Ponte Vecchio,

ma per buttarmi in Arno!

Mi struggo e mi tormento!

O Dio, vorrei, morir!”