his head to have him
trained at his villa on the Lake of Como. He wanted me to be his
teacher. I could gauge the extent of his infatuation by his
willingness to leave Milan in January the best opera season of the
year to live on the lake in winter weather, with hardly any company
of his own rank. I told him I was old and blind my days of intrigue
and adventure were long past. I wanted to work in comfort, without
having to hide from anyone."
"And
yet you agreed to teach Orfeo. Why?"
"Signor
Conte," Donati said simply, "I heard him sing."
There
was a pause. Donati heard Raversi walking deliberatively back and
forth. "How long have you and Orfeo been living here?"
"About
six weeks, I think."
"What
language did you and he speak?"
"Milanese,
Signor Conte. I don't speak English."
"Did
he speak Milanese well?"
"Extremely
well."
"So
you could converse quite fluently. Didn't he ever tell you anything
about himself?"
"No,
Signor Conte. But I never asked. I wasn't curious. We lived for
music we talked and thought of nothing else. The rest of the world
seemed very far away."
"What
about you, Matteo?" asked Raversi. "Can you shed any
light on who Orfeo was or where he came from?"
"Excellency,
I hardly ever saw him. I was always out working in the gardens or
going on errands to the village and the castle."
"And
you, Lucia? Do you know Orfeo's name?"
"No,
Excellency."
"You
were close to him in age," Raversi said persuasively. "The
two of you must have been thrown together become friends."
"A
girl like me doesn't make friends with a gentleman like him.
Excellency not unless she wants to be ruined out of hand. I wouldn't
take that chance. I want to be properly married some day."
"Hm.
Well, at least you can give me a description of him."
"A
description, Excellency?"
"Yes,
a description. What did he look like?"
"That's
hard to say, Excellency."
"How
can it be hard to say? Haven't you been living here with him all
this time?"
"I
didn't live here, Excellency," she said primly. "My father
wouldn't allow it. I only came to cook and clean during the day."
"All
the same, you must have seen Orfeo frequently. Was he tall?"
"Taller
than I am, Excellency."
"That's
as might be expected. How much taller?"
"I
don't know, Excellency. I never stood close by him."
"Was
he heavily built?"
"I
wouldn't say so, no."
"What
colour was his hair?"
"Brown,
I think."
"What
shade of brown?"
"I
didn't especially notice."
"What
about his eyes?"
"I'm
not one to be looking into gentlemen's eyes, Excellency!"
"For
the love of God, girl, you must remember more about him than this!
Was he good-looking? Had he any scars or moles or disfiguring
marks?"
"I
really didn't take any notice of his looks, Excellency. He was above
my touch."
Donati
shook his head dazedly. Lucia, who had not flinched from helping him
dress this morning, turning priggish! Shrewd, sharp-eyed Lucia,
unable to describe a young man she had seen every day for the past
six weeks! Oh, Orfeo, Orfeo, you have a great deal to answer for!
"Mother
of God!" cried Raversi in exasperation. "Matteo, you
describe him."
Matteo
cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. "I didn't see half so
much of him as my girl here did. If she can't describe him, then nor
can I, Excellency."
"This
is preposterous! Maestro Donati, surely Lodovico told you something
about what this young man looked like?"
"He
told me he was twenty-one years old. But he never said whether he
was fair or dark, tall or short. He did say he would cut a fine
figure on the stage and be pleasing to the ladies, but I had the
impression he meant that he was graceful and gentlemanly, not
necessarily that he was handsome."
"Didn't
you have to feel Orfeo's face or throat in order to teach him?"
"No,
Signor Conte. I knew just by listening to him what he was doing
right or wrong. But wait!" Donati held up his hand. "We're
forgetting Tonio!"
"Who
is Tonio?" asked Raversi
trained at his villa on the Lake of Como. He wanted me to be his
teacher. I could gauge the extent of his infatuation by his
willingness to leave Milan in January the best opera season of the
year to live on the lake in winter weather, with hardly any company
of his own rank. I told him I was old and blind my days of intrigue
and adventure were long past. I wanted to work in comfort, without
having to hide from anyone."
"And
yet you agreed to teach Orfeo. Why?"
"Signor
Conte," Donati said simply, "I heard him sing."
There
was a pause. Donati heard Raversi walking deliberatively back and
forth. "How long have you and Orfeo been living here?"
"About
six weeks, I think."
"What
language did you and he speak?"
"Milanese,
Signor Conte. I don't speak English."
"Did
he speak Milanese well?"
"Extremely
well."
"So
you could converse quite fluently. Didn't he ever tell you anything
about himself?"
"No,
Signor Conte. But I never asked. I wasn't curious. We lived for
music we talked and thought of nothing else. The rest of the world
seemed very far away."
"What
about you, Matteo?" asked Raversi. "Can you shed any
light on who Orfeo was or where he came from?"
"Excellency,
I hardly ever saw him. I was always out working in the gardens or
going on errands to the village and the castle."
"And
you, Lucia? Do you know Orfeo's name?"
"No,
Excellency."
"You
were close to him in age," Raversi said persuasively. "The
two of you must have been thrown together become friends."
"A
girl like me doesn't make friends with a gentleman like him.
Excellency not unless she wants to be ruined out of hand. I wouldn't
take that chance. I want to be properly married some day."
"Hm.
Well, at least you can give me a description of him."
"A
description, Excellency?"
"Yes,
a description. What did he look like?"
"That's
hard to say, Excellency."
"How
can it be hard to say? Haven't you been living here with him all
this time?"
"I
didn't live here, Excellency," she said primly. "My father
wouldn't allow it. I only came to cook and clean during the day."
"All
the same, you must have seen Orfeo frequently. Was he tall?"
"Taller
than I am, Excellency."
"That's
as might be expected. How much taller?"
"I
don't know, Excellency. I never stood close by him."
"Was
he heavily built?"
"I
wouldn't say so, no."
"What
colour was his hair?"
"Brown,
I think."
"What
shade of brown?"
"I
didn't especially notice."
"What
about his eyes?"
"I'm
not one to be looking into gentlemen's eyes, Excellency!"
"For
the love of God, girl, you must remember more about him than this!
Was he good-looking? Had he any scars or moles or disfiguring
marks?"
"I
really didn't take any notice of his looks, Excellency. He was above
my touch."
Donati
shook his head dazedly. Lucia, who had not flinched from helping him
dress this morning, turning priggish! Shrewd, sharp-eyed Lucia,
unable to describe a young man she had seen every day for the past
six weeks! Oh, Orfeo, Orfeo, you have a great deal to answer for!
"Mother
of God!" cried Raversi in exasperation. "Matteo, you
describe him."
Matteo
cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. "I didn't see half so
much of him as my girl here did. If she can't describe him, then nor
can I, Excellency."
"This
is preposterous! Maestro Donati, surely Lodovico told you something
about what this young man looked like?"
"He
told me he was twenty-one years old. But he never said whether he
was fair or dark, tall or short. He did say he would cut a fine
figure on the stage and be pleasing to the ladies, but I had the
impression he meant that he was graceful and gentlemanly, not
necessarily that he was handsome."
"Didn't
you have to feel Orfeo's face or throat in order to teach him?"
"No,
Signor Conte. I knew just by listening to him what he was doing
right or wrong. But wait!" Donati held up his hand. "We're
forgetting Tonio!"
"Who
is Tonio?" asked Raversi
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