cardinal. “And Scarlatti is our king of the harpsichord!”
Vivaldi, seeming indifferent to the outcome, held himself apart from the tumult. But I have no doubt that he was jealous of the tributes these other, younger musicians were receiving—and fearful, I’m sure, of losing the favor he’d so newly won from the king.
There was the joyful pop of a hundred bottles of champagne, and little shrieks from the ladies as the corks flew everywhere. I lost track of Vivaldi then. I was trying to pull Giulietta upright when an elegantly dressed young man appeared by my side. “May I be of help, Signorina?” he said in an accent I recognized as German. In defiance of custom, he raised his mask to let me see his face.
Such a lively, intelligent face with warm brown eyes that danced in the candlelight. He smiled at me a smile so genuine—so full of simple regard—that it felt suddenly as if I’d never beensmiled at before that moment, or been seen before those eyes seemed to look right through my mask and into my soul.
Poor Giulietta! I nearly dropped her, so taken was I with the feeling of standing close to this young man. I felt parched all of a sudden. As if he could read my thoughts, he took two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to me. I drank it down in one toss. “Will you dance with me, Signorina?” he said, holding out his hand. It was only then that I noticed the orchestra was playing again.
“A tiny moment,” I said to him, coming rather closer to his chest than I had intended. I pushed myself back and turned to face the other girls.
“Dance, you goose!” said Claudia, laughing.
“But I haven’t been introduced to him!” I whispered frantically.
Claudia, looking so very pretty and buxom in her dress that I instantly felt afraid he would prefer her over me, walked up to the young man and spoke to him in Italian—I suppose so that I would understand the content of their exchange.
“What’s your name, ragazzo? ” she said as if she were speaking to someone selling vegetables.
He smiled good-naturedly. “Franz Horneck,” he said, clicking his heels and bowing in the Prussian style. “Here to further my studies in the violin and harpsichord and to procure musical scores for the Archbishop of Mainz.” His eyes glittered then. “And to disport myself in Venezia as much as may be possible!”
Claudia gave him a very proper nod. “Franz Horneck, may I present to you Signorina Anna Maria della…” She hesitated, realizing, I think, how dangerous it would be to identify me as a foundling of the Pietà. Giulietta, Bernardina, and I could all receive fearsome punishments were it found out that we’d left the premises without receiving written permission, and to attendsuch a worldly entertainment as a ball! And Vivaldi—even then I think we realized that Vivaldi had put himself greatly at risk.
“Anna Maria della Foscarini!” Giulietta chimed in, having apparently recovered from her faint.
“Giulietta!” I cried in protest. But Master Horneck kissed my hand and in the next instant whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry, Signorina, your secret is safe with me.”
Claudia had meanwhile grabbed a glass of champagne for herself and was drinking it greedily. “Franz, Annina. Annina, Franz. Now you may dance!”
And we danced. It was even more wonderful than I had dreamed it would be. Despite the unaccustomed shoes and my lack of experience. Despite the glass of champagne or perhaps because of it, we danced as if we were leaves born aloft on a wind.
No, we danced as one being, one soul, one heart, so that for the first time in my life I did not feel alone.
We did not stop dancing, I think, except to stop briefly for more glasses of champagne. But even when we were not brought together by the pattern of the dance, it still felt as if we danced together.
I fear I drank too much. We all have our allotment of wine at the Pietà, but it is mixed with water until we come of
Vivaldi, seeming indifferent to the outcome, held himself apart from the tumult. But I have no doubt that he was jealous of the tributes these other, younger musicians were receiving—and fearful, I’m sure, of losing the favor he’d so newly won from the king.
There was the joyful pop of a hundred bottles of champagne, and little shrieks from the ladies as the corks flew everywhere. I lost track of Vivaldi then. I was trying to pull Giulietta upright when an elegantly dressed young man appeared by my side. “May I be of help, Signorina?” he said in an accent I recognized as German. In defiance of custom, he raised his mask to let me see his face.
Such a lively, intelligent face with warm brown eyes that danced in the candlelight. He smiled at me a smile so genuine—so full of simple regard—that it felt suddenly as if I’d never beensmiled at before that moment, or been seen before those eyes seemed to look right through my mask and into my soul.
Poor Giulietta! I nearly dropped her, so taken was I with the feeling of standing close to this young man. I felt parched all of a sudden. As if he could read my thoughts, he took two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to me. I drank it down in one toss. “Will you dance with me, Signorina?” he said, holding out his hand. It was only then that I noticed the orchestra was playing again.
“A tiny moment,” I said to him, coming rather closer to his chest than I had intended. I pushed myself back and turned to face the other girls.
“Dance, you goose!” said Claudia, laughing.
“But I haven’t been introduced to him!” I whispered frantically.
Claudia, looking so very pretty and buxom in her dress that I instantly felt afraid he would prefer her over me, walked up to the young man and spoke to him in Italian—I suppose so that I would understand the content of their exchange.
“What’s your name, ragazzo? ” she said as if she were speaking to someone selling vegetables.
He smiled good-naturedly. “Franz Horneck,” he said, clicking his heels and bowing in the Prussian style. “Here to further my studies in the violin and harpsichord and to procure musical scores for the Archbishop of Mainz.” His eyes glittered then. “And to disport myself in Venezia as much as may be possible!”
Claudia gave him a very proper nod. “Franz Horneck, may I present to you Signorina Anna Maria della…” She hesitated, realizing, I think, how dangerous it would be to identify me as a foundling of the Pietà. Giulietta, Bernardina, and I could all receive fearsome punishments were it found out that we’d left the premises without receiving written permission, and to attendsuch a worldly entertainment as a ball! And Vivaldi—even then I think we realized that Vivaldi had put himself greatly at risk.
“Anna Maria della Foscarini!” Giulietta chimed in, having apparently recovered from her faint.
“Giulietta!” I cried in protest. But Master Horneck kissed my hand and in the next instant whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry, Signorina, your secret is safe with me.”
Claudia had meanwhile grabbed a glass of champagne for herself and was drinking it greedily. “Franz, Annina. Annina, Franz. Now you may dance!”
And we danced. It was even more wonderful than I had dreamed it would be. Despite the unaccustomed shoes and my lack of experience. Despite the glass of champagne or perhaps because of it, we danced as if we were leaves born aloft on a wind.
No, we danced as one being, one soul, one heart, so that for the first time in my life I did not feel alone.
We did not stop dancing, I think, except to stop briefly for more glasses of champagne. But even when we were not brought together by the pattern of the dance, it still felt as if we danced together.
I fear I drank too much. We all have our allotment of wine at the Pietà, but it is mixed with water until we come of
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