you, but also in honour of the Duke of Olemburg...’ He paused,
seemingly to savour the amusement of all who had long known the
true identity of the Duke. ‘I shall play a piece from my much-
appreciated composition Il Trionfo del Tempo e del Disinganno. This
cantanta in the style of an oratorio has been extraordinarily well
received both in Rome and in Naples. But the real music lovers are
to be found here in Venice,’ he flattered, ‘and it is your opinion that
I shall most respect. I hope that it will meet with your approval.’
This was greeted with roars of applause from the audience. They
love him! Vivaldi realised, piqued beyond measure. He did not feel
in the mood to listen for any longer, and anyway it was getting far
too close in this room.
He made his way back to the ballroom and sought out, as
far as possible, a quiet spot. Far away from Haendel and all his
admirers he found a couple of empty seats. Slumping onto a sofa,
he wiped the sweat from his face. Despite the vicious hold of winter
on the Republic, it was hot indoors. The many human bodies
together produced plenty of warmth, although happily it was cooler
here in the spacious ballroom than it had been in the claustrophobic
music-room. Vivaldi took another drink and wondered what he
should do now that the chance of introducing himself to the Veneti
Nobili had well and truly passed him by. Nor did he yet know when
the king would be leaving Venice, and Vivaldi wanted personally to
present him with his Opus II. He must talk to Frederik IV! I’ll wait
here, thought Antonio, taking another swig of wine. He pushed his
violin-case under the sofa and relaxed back into the soft upholstery,
tipping the wink to a waiter for another glass.
In a serious attempt to suppress his disappointment,
Antonio immersed himself in his surroundings. His eye was caught
by the colourful frescos ornamenting the ceiling. He saw
companies of angels hovering around clouds that broke open to
reveal a charging chariot-of-war drawn by three white stallions,
foaming at the mouth. In the chariot, flanked by yet more balloon-
cheeked angels blowing trumpets, sat a dignified lady. Above her
head a slave held a laurel wreath. Nearby, on a great cloud, stood
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