Read Online Daughters of the Silk Road: A beautiful and epic novel of family, love and the secrets of a Ming Vase by Debbie Rix - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Debbie Rix
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enthusiastically.
‘Good,’ said her father, ‘let us hope that will be possible.’
‘So all these girls are in the convent against their will?’ Maria continued.
‘Well, not all, no. There are girls who have a vocation and a love of God. Sometimes a girl might be a little slow… You know? Not very bright, and her parents think the convent will provide a refuge from the demands of ordinary life. And there are prostitutes, of course.’
‘Really!’ said Maria, in horror. ‘In a place of God?’
‘Yes. The church here can be very broad-minded. Sometimes they have had enough of their life and retreat to the convent. And on occasion, I’m sorry to say, some are there at the invitation of a priest.’
‘No!’ said Maria. ‘Surely not here? At our church of San Zaccaria?’
‘No; our church and the convent here are very respectable. The nuns here are all from very noble families. It means they come with a certain amount of money which keeps everyone, even the Bishop, very happy.’
‘Oh, Papa! You are such a cynic,’ laughed his daughter.
‘Oh, they do some good work, you know. There are over thirty convents here in Venice – some on the tiny islands in the lagoon; a sort of physical manifestation of their separation from the ‘ordinary’ world. There is just enough space for the convent building, a church and a garden on which to grow produce.’
‘It must be terrible,’ said Maria. ‘They must be so bored!’
‘Ha, ha, yes, I think you are right. But they care for the sick on the lazzaretti that are dotted around the lagoon; it’s important work.’
‘Like that island we passed when we arrived?’ asked Maria.
‘Yes, like that one, and others.’
‘What was it called again?’
‘Poveglia. But you needn’t worry about it. They only take victims of plague and lepers there.’
The following morning, she found Daniele weeping in his room.
‘Little one, what is the matter?’ she asked tenderly, wrapping him in her arms.
‘I miss Mamma so much,’ he replied.
‘I know. So do I.’
‘And now Papa; he has not written for over a week.’
‘Yes. I shall write again to him today and perhaps we will hear from him soon. Darling Daniele, shall we go out? I need to order some provisions and we have not had a walk for a few days, and Papa did instruct us to continue to get to know Venice. We could take a gondola and go down the Grand Canal. We could go all the way to the Rialto Bridge and then walk back. Or perhaps, the other way around: walk first and then a gondola. What do you say?’
The house on Rio dei Greci had two entrances. The ‘front’ door was situated on the canal, and entailed arriving and departing by gondola from the small wooden deck that jutted out onto the water. The family had a gondola of their own, decorated with a pair of dolphins at either end, tethered to the dock. Niccolò had encouraged Andrea to learn how to operate it, but he had proved a poor student. On his first attempt to navigate the long dark boat he had jutted up against a neighbour’s jetty and damaged their gondola. Since that time, he had been nervous of attempting the task again. Daniele was desperate to be given the role of gondoliere for the family, but Niccolò was uncharacteristically reticent. Whilst a modern man in many ways, and open to new ideas, he was reluctant for his son, the son of a good family, to be seen in charge of the family’s gondola. And so it stood rocking in the breeze, unused, much to Daniele’s frustration.
‘We could take our gondola,’ said Daniele, showing some enthusiasm for the first time that morning.
‘No,’ said Maria. ‘I do not think Papa would be pleased with me if I let you do that.’
‘But he would never know,’ reasoned the boy.
‘No, Daniele. We will walk there, and then get a gondoliere to bring us back. We shall take Andrea with us, in case I purchase anything that needs to be brought back home with us.’ Frustrated, but aware that this
‘Good,’ said her father, ‘let us hope that will be possible.’
‘So all these girls are in the convent against their will?’ Maria continued.
‘Well, not all, no. There are girls who have a vocation and a love of God. Sometimes a girl might be a little slow… You know? Not very bright, and her parents think the convent will provide a refuge from the demands of ordinary life. And there are prostitutes, of course.’
‘Really!’ said Maria, in horror. ‘In a place of God?’
‘Yes. The church here can be very broad-minded. Sometimes they have had enough of their life and retreat to the convent. And on occasion, I’m sorry to say, some are there at the invitation of a priest.’
‘No!’ said Maria. ‘Surely not here? At our church of San Zaccaria?’
‘No; our church and the convent here are very respectable. The nuns here are all from very noble families. It means they come with a certain amount of money which keeps everyone, even the Bishop, very happy.’
‘Oh, Papa! You are such a cynic,’ laughed his daughter.
‘Oh, they do some good work, you know. There are over thirty convents here in Venice – some on the tiny islands in the lagoon; a sort of physical manifestation of their separation from the ‘ordinary’ world. There is just enough space for the convent building, a church and a garden on which to grow produce.’
‘It must be terrible,’ said Maria. ‘They must be so bored!’
‘Ha, ha, yes, I think you are right. But they care for the sick on the lazzaretti that are dotted around the lagoon; it’s important work.’
‘Like that island we passed when we arrived?’ asked Maria.
‘Yes, like that one, and others.’
‘What was it called again?’
‘Poveglia. But you needn’t worry about it. They only take victims of plague and lepers there.’
The following morning, she found Daniele weeping in his room.
‘Little one, what is the matter?’ she asked tenderly, wrapping him in her arms.
‘I miss Mamma so much,’ he replied.
‘I know. So do I.’
‘And now Papa; he has not written for over a week.’
‘Yes. I shall write again to him today and perhaps we will hear from him soon. Darling Daniele, shall we go out? I need to order some provisions and we have not had a walk for a few days, and Papa did instruct us to continue to get to know Venice. We could take a gondola and go down the Grand Canal. We could go all the way to the Rialto Bridge and then walk back. Or perhaps, the other way around: walk first and then a gondola. What do you say?’
The house on Rio dei Greci had two entrances. The ‘front’ door was situated on the canal, and entailed arriving and departing by gondola from the small wooden deck that jutted out onto the water. The family had a gondola of their own, decorated with a pair of dolphins at either end, tethered to the dock. Niccolò had encouraged Andrea to learn how to operate it, but he had proved a poor student. On his first attempt to navigate the long dark boat he had jutted up against a neighbour’s jetty and damaged their gondola. Since that time, he had been nervous of attempting the task again. Daniele was desperate to be given the role of gondoliere for the family, but Niccolò was uncharacteristically reticent. Whilst a modern man in many ways, and open to new ideas, he was reluctant for his son, the son of a good family, to be seen in charge of the family’s gondola. And so it stood rocking in the breeze, unused, much to Daniele’s frustration.
‘We could take our gondola,’ said Daniele, showing some enthusiasm for the first time that morning.
‘No,’ said Maria. ‘I do not think Papa would be pleased with me if I let you do that.’
‘But he would never know,’ reasoned the boy.
‘No, Daniele. We will walk there, and then get a gondoliere to bring us back. We shall take Andrea with us, in case I purchase anything that needs to be brought back home with us.’ Frustrated, but aware that this
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