"It was not such a nice memory," he says simply. "Things that aren't nice can make you feel queasy. I guess."
Dorotea's and his. Their little ones. The eldest was two when he lost sight of them. Camilla and Girolamo had been older, born from other mothers, in other times. Why do people still believe it so difficult to allow him enough soul and sentiment to grieve for them.
Smiling, "So you have two fathers? Piccolina means... little lady," he improvises.