The Last Stradivari
Page 3
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Night after night, Paganini appeared in Manisha’s room and drew her deeper into his musical web. He never touched her again—she assumed he was incapable of actual contact, but no matter—the man and his music were one and the same, and she was powerless to resist his musical seduction.
He taught her the various bowing techniques: martelé, where the bow lightly hammered the strings; jeté, a rapid bouncing motion on the down-stroke; and legato—great, sweeping strokes used in the slower passages. She learned how to pluck the open strings with her left hand while simultaneously bowing with her right. She loved playing harmonics, where the string was very lightly caressed, producing a high, flute-like sound.
One night she showed Il Maestro her five-hole flute. She could tell that he was unimpressed.
“Puah! Eet ees ze strumento of an agricoltore!” he exclaimed. “I, too play ze flauto, Cara Mia, but I much-a prefer mio Guarneri.”
He played a long, ricocheting passage from one of his Caprices, hammering the strings mercilessly.
When he had finished, she spoke. “Tell me, Maestro, did you abuse your women the way you abuse your Guarneri? I assume you have romanced other women besides me?”
He grinned mischievously. “Si, Cara, I haf roman-ced molte, molte signorino in my life—an’ aftair.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Antonia Bianchi, Mathilda, Agnese, Belinda…”
“Sorry I asked,” she said quickly. She yawned, and rubbed her eyes. “So tired…” she mumbled as she sat down on the bed.
“No! Alzati! Stand-a up! We are not-a finish-ed!” he cried.
“But I am so tired…” she whined. She reluctantly stood and assumed her playing position.
He relented a bit. “Va Bene, we shall play somezing simple zen, Cara Mia.”
He never plays anything simple—except to him, she thought cynically.
He led her through the slow movement of his twentieth Caprice, with its long, droning open notes and triple-stopped chords. At the final note, she collapsed onto the bed, sound asleep.