Playing by Heart

by Carmela Martino

  I watched, enthralled, as the marionettes acted out the story. An ugly ogress puppet appeared. She threatened to eat the prince, but Filadora begged her mother the ogress to show mercy. The ogress relented, saying she would grant the prince his freedom if he could perform three tasks: splitting six huge stacks of wood, clearing and planting a garden, and digging a new well. Filadora used magic to help the prince complete the tasks. Then they escaped together.

  When the ogress realized they’d run away, she cast a spell from afar separating Filadora and the prince. They suffered many trials as they searched for each other. In the end, though, they were reunited.

  Arlecchino concluded by saying, “And this tale proves once again that true love conquers all.”

  The story filled me with hope. If love conquers all, then perhaps Bellini and I would one day marry and live happily ever after, too. I applauded along with the rest of the audience.

  “Marvelous, simply marvelous,” Adriana said. “I almost forgot the puppets weren’t real people.”

  “It was well done,” I said.

  A man dressed in black began making his way through the crowd, collecting donations in a small black sack. Adriana drew a few coins from her purse and dropped them in his bag.

  “Grazie, Signora,” the man said. His voice sounded like that of the prince in the play.

  “Are you one of the puppeteers?” I asked.

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “The marionettes seemed so real,” I said. “How do you keep their strings from tangling together?”

  “It requires practice, and much skill, which I learned from my father,” he said. “He is a master puppeteer.” The man bowed and moved on.

  “I want to be a puppeteer,” Vincenzo said.

  “Me, too,” Paola said.

  Adriana laughed and tousled Vincenzo’s hair. “But you’re my little puppet, Vincenzo.”

  “Please, Signora Madre. May we have puppets of our own?” Vincenzo said. “Then Paola and I can put on shows for you.”

  “How can I resist this face?” Adriana squeezed Vincenzo’s cheeks between her fingers.

  We soon came upon a vendor selling simple wooden marionettes. Adriana bought a girl puppet for Paola and a boy one for Vincenzo. Paola immediately named hers Filadora. Vincenzo, on the other hand, said, “My marionette’s name will depend on the story.”

  “Ah, you’re wise beyond your years, my little puppet,” Adriana said. “Now let’s head for home before the sun gets any hotter.”

  On the carriage ride back to the house, Paola and Vincenzo sat on either side of Adriana. They made their puppets dance across our stepmother’s lap.

  “Oh, my.” Adriana suddenly clutched her abdomen with both hands. “The baby just kicked. He must be enjoying your show.”

  Paola and Vincenzo laughed. Adriana giggled along with them. I wondered if she’d still be so childlike after the baby’s birth.

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Country Air

  Even in Masciago, Maria got up early every morning to go to Mass. The ancient church of San Martino stood just around the corner from our country house. Yet Father still insisted one of the servants accompany Maria, as etiquette required. Nina usually volunteered.

  While Maria was off at church, Isabella and I usually slept in. Adriana was not an early riser either. It was one of the few things I had in common with my stepmother, though she often lingered in bed much longer, sometimes until midday. By then, I was usually at the harpsichord in the front parlor, working on my music lessons. That is, when I wasn’t staring out the window dreaming of Antonio Bellini. I wondered if he ever thought of me.

  I’d hoped to return to Milan for the opening of the maestro’s opera and see Bellini perform in the Royal Ducal Theatre. But Adriana was in no hurry to leave Masciago. She enjoyed the country air too much. As the days passed, I worried we might miss the opera altogether.

  ***

  When I wasn’t playing, Maria and I sometimes went horseback riding. We’d taken lessons years earlier upon our family doctor’s orders. He’d said the physical exercise would do us all good following the throat-and-fever illness. For once, Nonno Giuseppe had agreed with the physician. Our grandfather was an avid horseman himself. He made sure our family’s horses were always well tended.

  Maria favored an old brown mare named Castagna. I preferred Allegra, a spunky gray Arabian. Both her name and personality suited me well. Isabella disliked riding, so she rarely joined us.

  One day Maria and I arrived at the stable to find Nonno Giuseppe already there. “Buon giorno,” he said with a wide smile. “Buon giorno.” He took off his hat and bowed to us, exposing his thick head of white hair. He had no use for wigs. Today he wore his hair tied back in a black ribbon that matched his riding clothes. “I’m glad to see you taking advantage of the fine weather,” he said. “May I join you?”

  “Of course,” Maria said.

  Nonno Giuseppe put his hat on and called for a groom. “I’ll ride Diavolo today,” Nonno told the groom. “He can use the exercise.”

  As we waited for the horses, Nonno said, “Poor old Diavolo. He earned his name in his younger days, when he was full of the devil. But like me, age has slowed him down.”

  “You don’t seem slow to me, Nonno,” I said.

  “Or aged,” Maria added.

  Nonno Giuseppe’s smile made his wrinkles deepen, but his sparkling eyes belied his age. “You girls certainly know how to flatter an old man.”

  We were soon ambling along the countryside. Maria and I rode side by side behind Nonno Giuseppe.

  When we reached the meadow, Nonno Giuseppe fell back to ride between us. “So, Girls,” he said, “I hear your father left Masciago this morning. What was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until your return to Milan?”

  “He didn’t go to Milan,” I said.

  “No? Then where did he go?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Father told Adriana he was going to look at a feudal estate that’s for sale, but he didn’t say where it is.”

  “He’s still set on acquiring a title then?” Nonno said.

  “Oh, yes,” I replied, recalling the scene after Father’s last meeting. I didn’t say anything about Father’s determination to earn Marquis Volpi’s respect.

  “It’s been your father’s goal from a young age,” Nonno said. “Carlo was a mere boy when he learned he could never become a nobleman if he worked as a merchant. From then on, he refused to have anything to do with the family business. After your grandmother died, I didn’t have it in me to keep it going. I let my cousin take over. It nearly broke my heart, it did, that your father wouldn’t.” Nonno patted old Diavolo’s neck. “I’ve never understood this ambition of his. Having a title doesn’t make a man any better than one who does not.”

  “We are all equal in God’s eyes,” Maria said.

  “So true, so true,” Nonno said. “My father used to say, ‘At the end of the game, the king and the pawn go back into the same box.’” Nonno chuckled. “Unfortunately, few noblemen see it that way. As I recall, my rudest customers were always noblemen. For some reason, they think their titles give them the right to be insolent.”

  I thought of the time I’d seen Marquis Volpi at Gabriella’s ball. She’d called him “conceited.” He’d certainly seemed so, wielding his fancy walking stick. Did Father really want to be like him?

  “I hear the stream,” Nonno said. “Let’s water the horses.” Nonno Giuseppe took the lead again and led us to the right, where the ground sloped down toward the gurgling stream.

  Nonno dismounted and walked all three horses to the water. Maria and I remained in our saddles. She stroked Castagna’s neck as the horse drank. “Not all nobility are rude,” she said. “Count Riccardi and his family are most kind and honorable.”

  “That may be true,” Nonno said. “But in my experience, a count or marquis is much more likely to be an arrogant scoundrel than a tradesman or merchant is. And those noble ladies, why, they’re even hau
ghtier than their husbands, they are.” Nonno waved a finger at us. “I won’t tolerate such behavior from either of you, should your father’s plans succeed.”

  Maria said, “You needn’t worry about us, Nonno.”

  “I hope not!”

  Nonno took off his hat and inhaled deeply. “Ahh,” he said. “This country air gives me such an appetite.” He patted his belly. “I think it’s time we head back.”

  ***

  Adriana was sitting in the parlor, listening to me practice the harpsichord, when Father returned from his trip a few days later. He came in and handed a bottle to Adriana. “For you, my dear,” he said. “Some wine from our estate.”

  “Our estate?”

  I stopped playing mid-measure.

  “Well, it’s not ours yet, but by God’s grace it soon will be.” Father smiled. “In addition to the vineyards, the property includes a spring-fed lake full of trout, and some prime hunting land.”

  “What about the house?” Adriana asked.

  “The house? It’s not a house, it’s a villa!” Father swept his hand through the air. “It sits high atop a hill overlooking the lake. Inside, the grand staircase has a wrought-iron balustrade sculpted with figures of angels. There’s also a lovely little chapel dedicated to Sant’Anna. And behind the house is a magnificent marble fountain leading out to the gardens.”

  I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen Father so animated.

  Adriana clapped her hands together. “It sounds marvelous,” she said. “Where is it?”

  “In Montevecchia, a day’s ride northeast of our home in the city,” Father answered. “Tomorrow we must return to Milan. I’ve sent word to my attorney to enter into negotiations right away.”

  “Well, I shall miss the fine country air,” Adriana said, “but it’ll be good to see Papà again.”

  I got up from the harpsichord. “Can we attend Maestro Tomassini’s opera when we get back? It opened last week.”

  “I have already reserved a box,” Father said. He reached down and grabbed Adriana’s hands, pulling her to her feet. “After the purchase of the estate is finalized and I am granted a title, I will be able to buy a permanent box at the theatre. Until then, a rented one will have to do.”

  “Papà loves opera,” Adriana said. “May I invite him to join us?”

  “Of course,” Father said.

  “I’ll tell Nina and Naldo to start packing.” I hurried from the room. I could hardly contain my excitement. Finally, I would see Antonio Bellini again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Royal Ducal Theatre

  “I feel like Paola’s puppet,” Maria said as we waited in the front hall for Father and Adriana.

  “Why?”

  “Look at me,” Maria said. “My hair’s been curled, my face powdered, my stays laced so tight I can barely breathe. Father should take Isabella to the opera in my place. She would love all this.” Maria held out her arms. “I want only to stay home and study.”

  “Aren’t you excited about seeing the opera and hearing the wonderful singers?”

  “I suppose so,” Maria said. “But I’m not excited about being crushed by the crowds, especially in this, this, … costume.”

  “I think you look elegant. We both do.” I gazed at my reflection in the hall mirror, pleased Adriana had insisted on the curls and face powder. I hoped to dazzle Antonio Bellini tonight. That is, if I managed to have a word with him.

  “I’d rather look natural,” Maria said. “The way God made me.”

  Father finally came down the stairs with Adriana on his arm.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Adriana said. “My hair took longer than I expected.” My stepmother’s black hair was piled ridiculously high, higher than she’d ever worn it before. And it was adorned with yellow bird figures. “What do you think?” She twirled around to give us the full effect. It looked as though a flock of miniature orioles had nested on her head, but I couldn’t tell her that.

  Maria was quiet. She, too, seemed at a loss for words. Finally, she said, “The birds match your gown perfectly.”

  “Yes, they do. Aren’t they marvelous?” Adriana giggled.

  Naldo spared us any further discussion of Adriana’s hair by announcing, “The carriage is ready, Master.”

  “Grazie, Naldo,” Father said. “Come, ladies. Let’s be going.”

  ***

  As we passed the Duomo, the road became increasingly crowded with carriages of opera-goers. Dirty beggars in tattered clothes lined the streets asking for alms. I watched a pair of nuns in turquoise-colored habits walk among them, distributing bread. A one-legged beggar grabbed a nun’s hands and kissed them in gratitude. I cringed. How could she stand to be touched by him?

  Our carriage came to a stop near the Royal Ducal Theatre. Naldo opened the door and helped us out. Then he took a basket and lantern from the back of the carriage and led the way to the theatre entrance. Ahead of me, Father’s powdered wig shimmered in the lantern light.

  The Ducal theatre occupied a wing of the Royal Palace, where Governor von Traun lived. Four soldiers dressed in Austrian uniforms stood guard at the building’s entrance. Maria clung to my arm as we joined the crowd making their way through the door. The scent of violet water, wig powder, and fine perfumes couldn’t completely mask the smells of lantern oil and body odors that assaulted us in such a confined space.

  Maria and I stayed close behind as Father guided Adriana up the steps to the third level. We walked down a long hallway until we reached our box’s anteroom. Naldo hung the lantern on the wall, then waited while Father, Adriana, Maria, and I stepped inside.

  A lit candelabrum sat on a small table in the anteroom. No doubt, this is where Naldo would serve the refreshments he carried. I could hardly wait to slip through into the box itself. I tried to be patient while Adriana and Father led the way.

  “Oh, this is quite lovely,” Adriana said as I joined them. The box was lined in red velvet. The same red velvet covered the six seats—three on each side, facing each other. Of course, my stepmother picked the best spot, the seat nearest the railing, looking toward the stage. Father sat down beside her.

  I took the seat across from Adriana and immediately turned to face the stage. The orchestra was warming up, but I could barely hear them over the din of the people walking to and fro in the gallery below. There appeared to be about 40 musicians in all. Most of their instruments were stringed, with the exception of the oboes, trumpets, and bassoons. The violins were divided into two sections. Our seats were so far away the violinists all looked the same in their powdered wigs. One man on the far side was thinner than the others. Could he be Bellini?

  “After I am named Count of Montevecchia, my dear,” Father said to Adriana. “We shall acquire a box in the row reserved for nobility.”

  “How marvelous that will be.” Adriana pointed her fan at the lowest row on the opposite side of the gallery. “Look, there’s Governor von Traun,” she said. “His box is the largest of all.”

  The governor sat in the very first box, with what had to be the best view of the stage. I wished I could join him.

  “Oh, and there’s Count Riccardi with his wife and daughter,” Adriana said. Gabriella’s family’s box was on the noble level, too. I waved to get Gabriella’s attention, but she was too busy talking with her mother.

  Father said, “I will have to go over and pay my respects.”

  “Buonasera,” a deep voice said from behind us.

  “Papà!” Adriana said.

  Alfonso Grilli kissed Adriana’s hand. “You’re lovely as ever, dear daughter.” His deep bass voice always struck me as odd coming from someone so short.

  Grilli bowed to Father. “Thank you for allowing me to join you, Salvini. It should be a marvelous evening, eh?” Grilli sat down beside Father. “Everyone’s been saying wonderful things about Maestro Tomassini’s opera.”

  “You haven’t seen it yet?” Father asked.

  “No, I’ve been away on business.”
Grilli proceeded to tell Father and Adriana the details of his trip.

  I turned back to the orchestra. The maestro raised his baton and began directing the musicians in the opening sinfonia. Most people in the audience were too busy talking and laughing to even notice. They seemed more interested in socializing than in watching the performance. They’d probably already seen the opera several times by now—many came night after night. I wished I could shush them all.

  The thin violinist on the far side seemed more focused than the other violinists. He put his whole body into his playing, the same way Antonio Bellini did. It had to be him. My heart skipped a beat. This was the closest I’d been to him in three months. Yet I wanted to be closer. I longed to speak with him, to finally learn what he’d meant to ask the last time we were together.

  The crowd quieted when the famous prima donna Vittoria Tesi took the stage. As she sang the first aria, chills went down my spine. Her voice had such power and range! Of course, the maestro deserved credit as well, for creating music that took full advantage of her abilities. How I wished I could compose for such a voice.

  Next came a duet between Tesi and the male lead. The beautifully melodic song spoke of the characters’ love for each other. They executed it perfectly! Maestro Tomassini must have worked out whatever problems he’d had with his singers. The audience applauded enthusiastically. But as soon as it was over, they returned to their diversions.

  During the comic intermezzo, Father excused himself to call on the Riccardis. At the same time, Adriana and her father went to the anteroom of our box to share the refreshments Naldo had laid out.

  I said to Maria, “Isn’t the opera wonderful?”

  “I confess I am enjoying it,” Maria said. “The music is amazing, the singers have beautiful voices, and the set is a work of art.”

  I moved to Adriana’s seat for a better view of the stage. “I only wish we could sit closer.”

  “Aha, I’ve found you!” a familiar voice said.

  “Lady Gabriella!” I said. “What a lovely surprise.”