They announce the start of each race. We are feeding the birds near the sacred lake. I brought Marco over to see the horses. They have all been brought over just for the races. What an expense! My husband says he will bet on the Spartens, because they have the best animals. Almost everyone on the island is in the stadium. It is as noisy as yesterday. There is another woman standing near the lake. She looks so sad. I really do not know her. She is lovely but pale of complexion, and I think she she may be crying. I wish that I could comfort her. "Would they not allow you in either? My boy was so upset. It sounds very exciting in there." She had been so preocupied by her own thoughts, she did not see me here. "Is your husband a competitor?"

"No, no he is not here." She looks out to sea. I can tell she is very anxious, and I think she might be ill. "Can I help you? I am Chiara Cicero, my husband is the impressario of the festival."

"No, thank you for your concern. I think the sun, the sun is to much for me." As she turns to go, suddenly I recognise her. It is 'The Princess of Crete'.