Melesio tweezed his facial hairs, then ran ether-soaked cotton over his face, so his skin was the texture of silk; he took pains with his long-fingered, slender hands, and every night brushed his hair one hundred times. He was tall, with strong bones, but he moved with such delicacy that he gave the impression of being fragile. He never talked about his family and it would be years later, during his time in the penal colony on Santa Maria, that La Senora learned anything about his past. His father had been a bear of a man who had emigrated from Sicily and who every time he found his son playing with his sister's toys gave him a beating accompanied by cries of Ricchione! Pederasta! Mascalzone!