twelve o'clock
Like a man who is going on a long and perilous journey , David Rossi spent the morning in arranging his affairs . He looked over his letters and destroyed most of them . The letters from Roma were hard to burn , but he read each of them again , as if trying to stamp their words and characters on his brain , and with a deep sigh he committed them to the flames . It was twelve o'clock by this time , and Francesca , in her red cotton handkerchief , brought up his lunch . The good old thing looked at him with a comical expression of pity on her wrinkled face , and he knew that Bruno had told his story . `` Come now , my son ! Put away your papers and get something on your stomach .