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

dottore della peste mask. The hooked beak, where real physicians blend herbs, was gilded. The mask itself was red and white with gold inlets. My sister was now the only one of us absorbed by the artwork on the table. The rest of us eyed my father. After a moment, he let out a roar of laughter and slapped his thigh.
    “Who does not like surprises!” he cheered.  “It is Carnivale!”
    “But Papá, it is not till days away!” protested Giovanna.
    “We can have fun now, can’t we, carina ?”
    All the while my father smiled, but I could see that he was not happy. I understood that he had never ordered the masks.
    Still, it was decided that they were too precious to not be revealed at the banquet.
    Ubertino had soon chosen a plain leather bauta in flaming red. He said the mouth cutout would allow him to stuff his face all night, with minimum hindrance. Given Guido’s love of good wine, no question was made as to who should honor Bacchus. Pouting to himself, Balsamo happily placed his dottore della peste mask upon his face and Giovanna laughed because she whispered to me later that he looked like a girl for doing so.
    My father, at first, did not want to exchange his old mask for a new one.  But Giovanna insisted. So he kissed her hand and held up the first white feathered mask to examine it.  Then he held up a card from the case and read it out loud.
    “ Il Mascherari. You have heard of that compagnia , Lorenzo?”
    I replied that I had not.
    “Did the gondolier say anything?” asked my father.
    I explained that I had tried to engage the gondolier but that he might as well have lost his tongue.  Either way, it did not matter.  We agreed that my father would wear the mask as it was too good to leave behind.
    That left Rolandino.  Giovanna’s betrothed was in no mood for feasting. As we looked on, he made a sour face and reached for the black velvet volto .
    With the exception of Balsamo who wished to make an eye-catching late appearance in his outlandish gondola, we departed by carriage. In one carriage sat my father, Guido and Rolandino and in the other, myself, Giovanna and Ubertino.   I had brought with me a costume which my father had never seen, and it was my intention to mask myself as soon as we arrived at the marquis’ mansion, at which time I would be planning an escape to Daniela’s home without, or so I hoped, my absence being noticed. I was tense with anticipation. I admit that I was secretly worried the effects of my cinnamon mouthwash would wane before I could kiss her.
    Moments before we arrived in the San Marco nation, Ubertino pasted his mask upon his bloated face and declared right then and there, that he was famished. Giovanna laughed. As the horses pulled up by the side of the marquis’ casa , I glimpsed the flambeaux and the insipid crowd outside and announced that I was not feeling well and that I would join them later–a simple ploy to don my costume in private. I left them at the marble steps, at which my father waved at me until Giovanna whispered something into his ear.  He gave me a stern nod before following the odiously dressed marquis inside. That was my last encounter with him.
    Did I ever believe that I would never see him alive again? I never reflected on that last moment. I was much relieved to see him up those steps and I thought only of Daniela. My sole regret is not to have held my sister to my heart before I left.
    If you had seen how beautiful she looked on that night! Fair browed to the tips of her golden hair, bright eyed with life, her sweet lips tinted pink and her cheeks all crimson. Like an angel, she was. Her satin skin shimmered beneath the blue velvet of her high-waisted dress. I still remember the way I smiled in the darkness of our carriage when I spotted her little nails gilded to the tips.  I should have held her one last time. I ought to have inhaled the innocence of orange blossoms and rose petals before the very flower of our casa had withered. My