The Mascherari: A Novel of Venice by Laura Rahme Read Free Book Online Page A

benefit from the reconstruction. But that did not stop him from presenting the state with ducats from his own fortune.  Hence my mother’s loyalty to a dying man…
    In the thick of this conversation, Rolandino meandered upstairs and endeavored to catch Zanetta’s attention, but she protested that she would not come down until she had finished dressing. My mother scorned her for spending too long on the balcony catching the sun’s rays. I heard Zanetta protest that her hair looked too dark and my mother sighed.
    There is only one thing I remember, now, Signore. It is the moment after Rolandino had brought in the delivered coffers, when my father and he exchanged muted glances.  I saw my father frown.
    Guido sat up, hardly breathing.  And I know, that when he saw the cases, he covered his mouth with his hand.  He had not eaten anything. I thought perhaps he was ill. 
    At this, my father lifted the puppy terrier to his lap and began to pamper it.  All along, I saw him eye the sealed coffers. There were five. Each of the same size, and each signed with an artisan’s seal.
    Someone gave a happy squeal.
    “Masks!”
    It was sweet Zanetta. She was tottering about on her cork platforms. Such a fool, I was. I laughed because they were the steepest velvet-covered wedges I had ever seen. Still, they were pretty and very up-to-date with purple lace frills and beaded silk. One of our maids held Zanetta’s hand as she walked proudly toward us. It was mid-afternoon and my sister had finally chosen to make an appearance. She looked lovely. Rolandino sat up and meekly offered his arm. I know he was very proud.
    “Oh, you look precious as a blossom, Giovanna!” said Ubertino. Rolandino gave him a warning glare.
    My mother began to tie Giovanna’s silk ribboned sleeves, all the while chiding her for being so late. When I remember how fondly she gazed at Giovanna’s blue velvet gown, and the pride on her face, it stings at my heart.
    “What will you wear, mamma?” asked our Zanetta. To which my mother replied that she was not feeling well and would rather sleep early. Ubertino gave a dramatic cry in protest, and even Guido attempted to dissuade her from remaining alone at the casa , but she laughed and said that my father would enjoy himself for both of them.
    During all that time, my father had not said a word. He eyed the sealed cases, and then Giovanna. I knew he was deciding on whether to open them or not, seeing all of us already owned a mask for the evening.
    I stepped up to the task. I lifted the first coffer and opened it.
    “ Bellisimo !” cried Zanetta.
    I beheld a white and gold bauta mask of infinite beauty. The center of its forehead was adorned with a spray of gold and silver reeds. Large white feathers were arranged along the top of the mask to crown the wearer’s head.  Above the cutout mouth piece was an almost sinister detail. It was a row of dentiles. Teardrop shaped pearls, gilded to resemble gold teeth. 
    I quietly noted the seal on the packaging. I had not seen the artisan’s name before.
    My mother brushed past me and lifted the second coffer. This time it was a mask crowned by garlands of fruit and leaves to evoke autumn hues. There were mock grapes sewn in purple and green.  It seemed to have been fashioned to honor the God Bacchus.
    “Giacomo,” she said, in wonder, “you did not tell me that you had ordered these. Look at this one! Beautiful work.”
    My father did not reply. Again, I witnessed his muted exchanges with Rolandino and I wondered what the two plotted.
    Zanetta proceeded to open the other three cases. I was not the only one curious. We all noted the craftsmanship of each mask.
    “How much did you spend on these, Giacomo?” asked Rolandino. He looked to my father and I could not read whether his expression was that of concern or reproach.  I do not recall the response my father gave, but he had a calculating glimmer in his eye, one I know well.
    Giovanna lifted the sinister