of her disguise. She seated herself in the middle of the throng of students attending the lecture, avoiding people’s eyes and taking notes furiously. Before the end of the lecture, she’d used up her little bottle of ink, but she didn’t dare ask to borrow ink from someone else. She had to simply try—inamong the whispered gossip, occasional snores, and bawdy jokes of the other students—to memorize every word.
She was both exhausted and elated when she found her way back to Signora Isabella’s, hoping she was on time for the midday meal. She had taken wrong turns twice, had to push her way through a throng of people gathered to watch a group of mummers, and just nearly missed being bitten by a savage dog. She was two steps up the staircase when someone grabbed her cloak, jerking her backward and pulling her into the alcove under the stairs, one hand—a filthy-tasting hand—held over her mouth. She knew even before her eyes had adjusted to the dark: It was the serving boy, Tonio.
When Giorgio got back to Persiceto, traveling the long way on foot, he really did look as though he’d been beset by robbers. He was limping, bleeding, sunburned, and cold by the time he arrived, long after dark. The kitchen maid, when she saw him, shrieked in a most gratifying way. Everyone else reacted just as Nicco had imagined they would—except Pierina. Pierina, now thirteen and growing fast, threw her arms around Giorgio,covering him in tears and kisses.
Ursula, who had been busy ministering to Giorgio’s injuries when Pierina burst into the kitchen, looked from one to the other and then at her husband. He shook his head as if to indicate I had no idea! Giorgio started to speak, but his words were caught in a hopeless stammer and he merely blushed.
Realizing that she’d revealed what she shouldn’t have, Pierina stood alongside him in an agony of embarrassment.
Carlo said, “First things first. What happened to you, lad?”
Giorgio looked like the most miserable and unwilling chorister who ever lived. “Robbers,” he sang, “along the road.”
Pierina fainted.
“For goodness’ sakes!” said Ursula. “This house is beginning to resemble a hospital. Get water for her!” she told the kitchen maid. “And stop that mewling! You’re only making things worse.”
Giorgio, for all his fatigue, had adroitly caught Pierina before she hit the ground.
“The horse and the donkey?” asked Carlo. “The manuscript?”
Giorgio shook his head above Pierina’s prostrate form. It was unclear whether his distress was in reference to his master’s loss of property or to Pierina’s public revelation of her feelings for him.
It was clear to Nicco—and, really, to all of them—that the love between these two was formidable. He could see his father entertaining the idea of a match between his best artist and his second daughter—and how his initial reaction of annoyance was replaced by the realization that nothing, in fact, could be more perfect.
Giorgio’s work was a source of plenty for the family, bringing in spectacular new commissions. His reputation in the book trade was quickly growing. Carlo had been gnawed by fear that one of the rich private collectors in the region—perhaps Romeo Pepoli himself—would try to lure Giorgio away. The Giliani workshop could never come up with that sort of gold. But what girl in the parish was more charming than Pierina, with her blond hair, blue eyes, and winning ways? To have such an artist as his son-in-law—that would be the greatest triumph of all.
Nicco also liked the idea. He already loved Giorgio like a brother. And this would mean that Pierina—unlike Alessandra—would stay at home.
Ursula, secure in the knowledge that her elder step-daughter would command a high bride-price, seemed to find no fault with the idea of a humbler match for Pierina. She was glad, too, that her favorite stepchild would remain close by. Ursula merely looked at her and murmured, “So
She was both exhausted and elated when she found her way back to Signora Isabella’s, hoping she was on time for the midday meal. She had taken wrong turns twice, had to push her way through a throng of people gathered to watch a group of mummers, and just nearly missed being bitten by a savage dog. She was two steps up the staircase when someone grabbed her cloak, jerking her backward and pulling her into the alcove under the stairs, one hand—a filthy-tasting hand—held over her mouth. She knew even before her eyes had adjusted to the dark: It was the serving boy, Tonio.
When Giorgio got back to Persiceto, traveling the long way on foot, he really did look as though he’d been beset by robbers. He was limping, bleeding, sunburned, and cold by the time he arrived, long after dark. The kitchen maid, when she saw him, shrieked in a most gratifying way. Everyone else reacted just as Nicco had imagined they would—except Pierina. Pierina, now thirteen and growing fast, threw her arms around Giorgio,covering him in tears and kisses.
Ursula, who had been busy ministering to Giorgio’s injuries when Pierina burst into the kitchen, looked from one to the other and then at her husband. He shook his head as if to indicate I had no idea! Giorgio started to speak, but his words were caught in a hopeless stammer and he merely blushed.
Realizing that she’d revealed what she shouldn’t have, Pierina stood alongside him in an agony of embarrassment.
Carlo said, “First things first. What happened to you, lad?”
Giorgio looked like the most miserable and unwilling chorister who ever lived. “Robbers,” he sang, “along the road.”
Pierina fainted.
“For goodness’ sakes!” said Ursula. “This house is beginning to resemble a hospital. Get water for her!” she told the kitchen maid. “And stop that mewling! You’re only making things worse.”
Giorgio, for all his fatigue, had adroitly caught Pierina before she hit the ground.
“The horse and the donkey?” asked Carlo. “The manuscript?”
Giorgio shook his head above Pierina’s prostrate form. It was unclear whether his distress was in reference to his master’s loss of property or to Pierina’s public revelation of her feelings for him.
It was clear to Nicco—and, really, to all of them—that the love between these two was formidable. He could see his father entertaining the idea of a match between his best artist and his second daughter—and how his initial reaction of annoyance was replaced by the realization that nothing, in fact, could be more perfect.
Giorgio’s work was a source of plenty for the family, bringing in spectacular new commissions. His reputation in the book trade was quickly growing. Carlo had been gnawed by fear that one of the rich private collectors in the region—perhaps Romeo Pepoli himself—would try to lure Giorgio away. The Giliani workshop could never come up with that sort of gold. But what girl in the parish was more charming than Pierina, with her blond hair, blue eyes, and winning ways? To have such an artist as his son-in-law—that would be the greatest triumph of all.
Nicco also liked the idea. He already loved Giorgio like a brother. And this would mean that Pierina—unlike Alessandra—would stay at home.
Ursula, secure in the knowledge that her elder step-daughter would command a high bride-price, seemed to find no fault with the idea of a humbler match for Pierina. She was glad, too, that her favorite stepchild would remain close by. Ursula merely looked at her and murmured, “So
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