Read Online 2 - Painted Veil by Beverle Graves Myers - Free Book Online
Authors: Beverle Graves Myers
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that. Venice has always been a city of contradictions, never more so than in these difficult times.”
“Her glory years are fast retreating.”
“True. We lost most of our eastern empire at the beginning of this century. It must have been a crushing blow at the time, but the defeat turned out to be of little consequence in the long run. The profitable trade continues to shift to the west, and the English and Dutch ships have always dominated those waterways. People no longer come to Venice to launch armies or conduct business. They come to be entertained.”
“Or to escape,” whispered my friend.
We walked on in silence for a moment, approaching the mist-laden canal. “You said you had been here three months,” I observed. “You must have witnessed the last few weeks of Carnival.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Did you notice all the masks?”
“How could I miss them? Everyone went about in disguise, even if it was just a simple half-mask that covered the eyes and nose. I bought one myself.”
“How did you feel when you first donned your mask?”
Despite the darkness, I knew he was grinning. “Liberated. Boundless,” Gussie replied. “It was downright intoxicating.”
“You are not alone in that. Disguise is a seductive lure, especially when it seems that everything you have learned to count on is fast disappearing. Venice herself wears a mask these days. If you stay here much longer you will find that nothing is truly as it seems.”
“You make Venice sound like a dangerous place.”
“She can be. My city dons a mask of grandeur and dances to a gay tune, but snatch her mask away and you will see fear and desperation.”
“Does this melancholy line of thought have anything to do with your missing scene painter?”
“I sincerely hope not,” I answered quickly. But once I had made plans for Gussie to attend rehearsal the next day and watched the Englishman’s gondola slide into the mist, reason forced me to consider Luca’s disappearance in a more sinister light than I had at first. Though it was really none of my business, I was decidedly unhappy with Luca’s secret relationship with Liya. I had to wonder what other secrets lay behind Luca’s mask of careless bonhomie and what difficulties they might have caused.
Chapter 6
The next morning I rose early, made a hasty breakfast of bread and fruit, and started off for the ghetto with my manservant Benito in tow. Luca’s artful likeness of the Jewish seamstress had convinced me that the Del’Vecchio establishment was my best hope for obtaining information about the missing painter. I knew Maestro Torani would be expecting some news at rehearsal later that morning, and I was loath to disappoint him.
We didn’t stop to hire a gondola; the ghetto lay only a few squares away from my house on the Campo dei Polli. Venice had gathered her Hebrew inhabitants onto several islets in the Cannaregio over two hundred years ago. The site was a former iron foundry, a
geto
, hence the current designation. Several thousand Jews lived behind the stout walls and were shut in by locked gates from sundown to sunup. During the night, two barges manned by archers of the Republic patrolled the canals ringing the walled enclave. My city looked on the Jews not only as foreigners inherently separate from the rest of Venetian society, but also as enemies of her devoutly held Catholic faith. Venice was also suspicious of any outsiders doing business within her territory. Even the Germans, Europeans and Christians all, had their trading activities confined to a compound on the Rialto.
Benito and I soon reached the wooden bridge on the east side of the ghetto. The massive gates had been thrown back and traffic over the bridge was brisk in both directions. We stepped aside to let several handcarts of caged geese trundle by.
“What do you want me to say to the Jewess, Master?” asked Benito, plucking at a snowy feather that had floated onto my sleeve.
“Just apologize. Beg
“Her glory years are fast retreating.”
“True. We lost most of our eastern empire at the beginning of this century. It must have been a crushing blow at the time, but the defeat turned out to be of little consequence in the long run. The profitable trade continues to shift to the west, and the English and Dutch ships have always dominated those waterways. People no longer come to Venice to launch armies or conduct business. They come to be entertained.”
“Or to escape,” whispered my friend.
We walked on in silence for a moment, approaching the mist-laden canal. “You said you had been here three months,” I observed. “You must have witnessed the last few weeks of Carnival.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Did you notice all the masks?”
“How could I miss them? Everyone went about in disguise, even if it was just a simple half-mask that covered the eyes and nose. I bought one myself.”
“How did you feel when you first donned your mask?”
Despite the darkness, I knew he was grinning. “Liberated. Boundless,” Gussie replied. “It was downright intoxicating.”
“You are not alone in that. Disguise is a seductive lure, especially when it seems that everything you have learned to count on is fast disappearing. Venice herself wears a mask these days. If you stay here much longer you will find that nothing is truly as it seems.”
“You make Venice sound like a dangerous place.”
“She can be. My city dons a mask of grandeur and dances to a gay tune, but snatch her mask away and you will see fear and desperation.”
“Does this melancholy line of thought have anything to do with your missing scene painter?”
“I sincerely hope not,” I answered quickly. But once I had made plans for Gussie to attend rehearsal the next day and watched the Englishman’s gondola slide into the mist, reason forced me to consider Luca’s disappearance in a more sinister light than I had at first. Though it was really none of my business, I was decidedly unhappy with Luca’s secret relationship with Liya. I had to wonder what other secrets lay behind Luca’s mask of careless bonhomie and what difficulties they might have caused.
Chapter 6
The next morning I rose early, made a hasty breakfast of bread and fruit, and started off for the ghetto with my manservant Benito in tow. Luca’s artful likeness of the Jewish seamstress had convinced me that the Del’Vecchio establishment was my best hope for obtaining information about the missing painter. I knew Maestro Torani would be expecting some news at rehearsal later that morning, and I was loath to disappoint him.
We didn’t stop to hire a gondola; the ghetto lay only a few squares away from my house on the Campo dei Polli. Venice had gathered her Hebrew inhabitants onto several islets in the Cannaregio over two hundred years ago. The site was a former iron foundry, a
geto
, hence the current designation. Several thousand Jews lived behind the stout walls and were shut in by locked gates from sundown to sunup. During the night, two barges manned by archers of the Republic patrolled the canals ringing the walled enclave. My city looked on the Jews not only as foreigners inherently separate from the rest of Venetian society, but also as enemies of her devoutly held Catholic faith. Venice was also suspicious of any outsiders doing business within her territory. Even the Germans, Europeans and Christians all, had their trading activities confined to a compound on the Rialto.
Benito and I soon reached the wooden bridge on the east side of the ghetto. The massive gates had been thrown back and traffic over the bridge was brisk in both directions. We stepped aside to let several handcarts of caged geese trundle by.
“What do you want me to say to the Jewess, Master?” asked Benito, plucking at a snowy feather that had floated onto my sleeve.
“Just apologize. Beg
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