The Glassblower of Murano by Marina Fiorato Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marina Fiorato
reflections of the canal.
As for the Principessa, she knew of Corradino by repute,
and had longed to see the artist that all spoke of. She was
surprised to find him so young - not more than twenty,
she guessed. She was pleased to find him handsome,
although not unusually so, with the dark eyes and curls of
the region. His face - perpetually tanned by the furnaces
- recalled the stern, dark, eastern icons that looked down
from their jewel encrusted frames in the Basilica at Mass.
In his person, he looked quite commonplace. But he was
not. He was as priceless, she knew, as those icons themselves
with all their jewels.
Angelina remembered being among the privileged company
that had gone, the year before, to see an exhibition of a
fabled creature at the Doge's Palace, the Palazzo Ducale.
They called the creature a Camelopard, the fabled Giraffa
catnelopardalis, and it had been loaned by a King of the
Africas. The name meant nothing to the Principessa. But
when she saw the animal she felt an almost feral excitement as she watched from behind her mask. Enormously
tall, chequered like a Harlequin, and with an impossibly long neck, the creature strode slowly around; its form slicing
through the sunlight shafts that flooded in through the
palazzo's windows.The great chamber of the Sala del Maggior
Consiglio, cavernous, gorgeously painted in red and gold
frescoes and with the highest ceilings in Venice, seemed
the only room fitting for the display of this fantastical beast.
From the ceiling, seventy-six past Doges ofVenice, rendered
by the great Veronese, looked down unmoved at the sight.
Their living successor looked on in wonder from his throne,
crowned with his corno hat, whispering to his consort from
behind his beringed hand. Meanwhile, the alien silent creature paused to examine a high scarlet drapery with a snakelike black tongue, eliciting delighted gasps from the audience. It lifted its tail and expelled a pile of neat droppings
onto the priceless floors, treading in its own excrement.
The ladies giggled and squealed while the men guffawed,
and Angelina pressed a floral posy to her nose. But her
excitement remained. She felt herself in the presence of
something truly unusual, something unique. She did not
ask herself if the Camelopard were beautiful or not. That
question was an irrelevance. If the beast had been for sale
she would have had her father buy it.
She looked now at Corradino and felt the same sensations.
It mattered not if he was young and handsome, only that
he was truly unusual, something unique. She felt the need
to possess him. When Angelina del Vescovi smiled at him
all thought of the pigments went out of Corradino's head. He soon remembered them though, oh yes. In fact, he
found it necessary to make many trips to the Palazzo
Vescovo in the months before the wedding, to discuss those
all-important pigments. Sometimes he saw the Prince as
well as his daughter. But mostly he saw the Principessa
alone. These were very important matters, you understand.
It was crucial to get such things absolutely right.
A week before her wedding it was discovered that the
Principessa Angelina dei Vescovi was with child. The
Principessa's tiring maid, a tool and spy of the Prince,
observed her mistresses' linens, which remained a blanched
white throughout the time of her monthly courses. The
wench reported the Principessa's pregnancy to the Prince
almost before Angelina knew of it herself. The betrothal
was broken on grounds of ill health, and Angelina was
spirited away, in the utmost secrecy, to her father's estates
in Vicenza for her confinement. In an effort to salvage his
daughter's reputation, the Prince threatened his servants
with death if any word were breathed back in Venice of
Angelina's disgrace. Corradino, in a clandestine visit to the
palace to see Angelina, found himself met by two of the
Prince's gentlemen and carted upstairs to the Prince's study.
As for the Principessa, she knew of Corradino by repute,
and had longed to see the artist that all spoke of. She was
surprised to find him so young - not more than twenty,
she guessed. She was pleased to find him handsome,
although not unusually so, with the dark eyes and curls of
the region. His face - perpetually tanned by the furnaces
- recalled the stern, dark, eastern icons that looked down
from their jewel encrusted frames in the Basilica at Mass.
In his person, he looked quite commonplace. But he was
not. He was as priceless, she knew, as those icons themselves
with all their jewels.
Angelina remembered being among the privileged company
that had gone, the year before, to see an exhibition of a
fabled creature at the Doge's Palace, the Palazzo Ducale.
They called the creature a Camelopard, the fabled Giraffa
catnelopardalis, and it had been loaned by a King of the
Africas. The name meant nothing to the Principessa. But
when she saw the animal she felt an almost feral excitement as she watched from behind her mask. Enormously
tall, chequered like a Harlequin, and with an impossibly long neck, the creature strode slowly around; its form slicing
through the sunlight shafts that flooded in through the
palazzo's windows.The great chamber of the Sala del Maggior
Consiglio, cavernous, gorgeously painted in red and gold
frescoes and with the highest ceilings in Venice, seemed
the only room fitting for the display of this fantastical beast.
From the ceiling, seventy-six past Doges ofVenice, rendered
by the great Veronese, looked down unmoved at the sight.
Their living successor looked on in wonder from his throne,
crowned with his corno hat, whispering to his consort from
behind his beringed hand. Meanwhile, the alien silent creature paused to examine a high scarlet drapery with a snakelike black tongue, eliciting delighted gasps from the audience. It lifted its tail and expelled a pile of neat droppings
onto the priceless floors, treading in its own excrement.
The ladies giggled and squealed while the men guffawed,
and Angelina pressed a floral posy to her nose. But her
excitement remained. She felt herself in the presence of
something truly unusual, something unique. She did not
ask herself if the Camelopard were beautiful or not. That
question was an irrelevance. If the beast had been for sale
she would have had her father buy it.
She looked now at Corradino and felt the same sensations.
It mattered not if he was young and handsome, only that
he was truly unusual, something unique. She felt the need
to possess him. When Angelina del Vescovi smiled at him
all thought of the pigments went out of Corradino's head. He soon remembered them though, oh yes. In fact, he
found it necessary to make many trips to the Palazzo
Vescovo in the months before the wedding, to discuss those
all-important pigments. Sometimes he saw the Prince as
well as his daughter. But mostly he saw the Principessa
alone. These were very important matters, you understand.
It was crucial to get such things absolutely right.
A week before her wedding it was discovered that the
Principessa Angelina dei Vescovi was with child. The
Principessa's tiring maid, a tool and spy of the Prince,
observed her mistresses' linens, which remained a blanched
white throughout the time of her monthly courses. The
wench reported the Principessa's pregnancy to the Prince
almost before Angelina knew of it herself. The betrothal
was broken on grounds of ill health, and Angelina was
spirited away, in the utmost secrecy, to her father's estates
in Vicenza for her confinement. In an effort to salvage his
daughter's reputation, the Prince threatened his servants
with death if any word were breathed back in Venice of
Angelina's disgrace. Corradino, in a clandestine visit to the
palace to see Angelina, found himself met by two of the
Prince's gentlemen and carted upstairs to the Prince's study.