"Even though I was just a child at the time, I still remember Countess De Stefani very well. She lived in an old villa on top of the hill in my village. She rarely went out, but if you happened to see her strolling around the square, you could no longer forget her elegance. No, I'm not talking about her clothes which were perhaps the only precious things left from the decayed nobility: I am referring to how she moved her hands, her fingers looked like feathers to support the mouthpiece from which she smoked with a distracted air, and how she always smiled kind to every passerby, to how she narrowed her eyes with affection towards us children. When I learned that she had killed herself in her room, I was sad for days and days, I don't know why. After all, I didn't even know her. And even today, 20 years later, I wonder if that woman would have been saved if she hadn't had enough free time to ask herself if she was happy or not."

Italian version in the end of the slides.