Read Online The Contessa's Vendetta by Mirella Sichirollo Patzer - Free Book Online Page A

Except for her stiffened limbs and ashen pallor, she looked asleep. A man lay stock-still across her body, his arms wrapped round her, his face upon her cold breast that would never again respond to his warm embrace. A solitary ray of golden sunlight shone into the dark room, shedding light on the spectacle - the prostrate couple on the bed, the upright stature of the benevolent doge, and the solemn and concerned faces of the people who surrounded them.
    “ See! He has been that way since she died last night,” the woman whispered. “He has clinched his hands so tight around her, we cannot even shift a finger.”
    The doge advanced and touched the shoulder of the grieving admirer. “ Figlio mio ! My son!” He spoke with exquisite tenderness.
    There came no answer. The women, moved by the doge’s endearing words sobbed and the men wiped away tears of their own.
    “ Figlio mio ! I am your doge. Do you not wish to greet me?”
    The young man raised his head from the breast of his beloved and gave the doge a blank stare. His shattered face, matted hair, and feral, hollow eyes gave him the appearance of someone trapped in a nightmare from which there was no escape.
    “ Your hand, my son!” said the doge with military-like authority.
    Gradually, half-heartedly, a s if a powerful force compelled him, he loosened his right arm from the dead woman he had clasped for so long, and yielded his hand to the doge.
    Erizzo grasped it within his own and held it tight. He looked the grieving lad full in the face. “When it comes to love, there is no death,” he said.
    The young man ’s eyes met his for a long moment, and then his rigid expression softened. He yanked his hand back and erupted into a dirge of tears.
    Erizzo shielded him with his arm and raised him from the bed. The doge lead him away sobbing and handed him into the arms of his worried mother. The torrent of tears had likely saved the youth from madness.
    Applause greeted the doge as he passed through the small crowd of people who had witnessed what had happened. He acknowledged them with a sincere bow, left the house, and signalled to the beccamorti they could now complete their heart-rending duty. The people praised the doge with cheers and ardent blessings as he continued on his way.
    I watched his retreating figure till I could see him no more. I felt that I had become more resilient in the presence of such a hero. In my life, I have encountered few men as true and virtuous like Francesco Erizzo of the Venetian Republic. Even now my heart warms when I think of him. 
    As soon as the doge vanished down the street, I decided to visit the small inn where I had fallen ill. After a few missed streets, I found it. The door stood open and I glanced inside. Giovanni, the fat landlord, polished his glasses as though he had never left off. Off in the corner was the wooden bench upon which I had lain and where I had died.
    “ Buon giorno signora ,” the landlord said when I entered.
    “ Good day,” I said returning his greeting. I ordered some wine and bread then sat myself at one of the little tables while he bustled about to serve me.
    “ You are new to Vicenza” he asked as he dusted and rubbed a cup for my wine.
    For a moment , his question confused me and I stumbled to gather my wits. My appearance was so altered, he did not recognize me. “Relatively new,” I answered. “And you? How goes the situation with the plague?”
    The landlord shook his head and his expression turned woeful. “ Dio mio , my God, do not speak of it. The people are dying like flies in honey. Only yesterday, goodness, who would have believed it?” Pressing his palms together as if in prayer, he waved them back and forth before him as he looked up to Heaven and sighed.
    “ What happened yesterday?” I asked, even though I knew what he would tell me. “I am a stranger in Vicenza and eager for news.”
    Perspiring, Giovanni laid the cup of wine and half-loaf of bread on the marble top