3
Venice, September 1711
‘Maestro!’ Anna Maria calls out jubilantly, rushing headlong into
the music-room. ‘Maestro!’ She throws her arms about the priest as
if he were her own father. Smiling, Vivaldi disentangles himself
and holds her by the shoulder so he can look at her. ‘You’ve grown,
my girl,’ he says softly. She looks back at him, tears of joy rolling
down her cheeks. ‘I’m so happy you’re back. You don’t know how
much I’ve missed you.’ Anna Maria clasps her arms around the
priest again and he rocks her gently back and forth. From her chair,
a disgruntled Maestra watches the pair. Anna Maria catches her eye
and pokes out her tongue as rudely as she can, but before the
woman can rebuke her, more choir members arrive and take turns
embracing the disconcerted priest. He has not expected quite such
a warm welcome and is surprised the girls and women have missed
him so much. They bombard him with questions, so not much
music is made this morning. Antonio takes the trouble to tell them
all they want to know and listens attentively in turn to their stories.
The Maestra, duty-bound to stay and keep an eye on things, passes
the time in jealous speculation. This priest is a man, after all, and
that’s the one and only reason the girls make such a fuss of him.
But she does not fool herself. Deep in her heart she knows all this
affection is not due solely to Vivaldi’s masculinity. She knows that
Don Antonio Vivaldi is a superlative teacher, capable of nurturing
to fruition all the hidden talent in the Figlie. It is a task in which she
herself has signally failed, a painful fact she would rather not face
and the true reason why she holds aloof from this joyous reunion.
The day of tumult soon passes, fading into the centuries-
old rhythm of the Ospedale della Pietà. The first thing Antonio does
is to audition everyone who plays the violin, noticing straightaway
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