 Oh, grazie, father. This was delicious. My mother's recipe. I tell you the secret, but she'd never forgive me. Well, I'd have no use for it in any case. Of course. You say there are many homeless boys in Turin? Si, many. Why have I not seen them? You heard your sacristan. We're all young miscreants, welcome at mass, trespassing the rest of the time. I see.