that is made only on Burano.’ Antonio picks up one of the baked
rings, dips it in his wine and sucks the liquid from it. ‘Delicious!’
With a slight frown, Domenico follows suit. ‘Hmm, not
bad!’
Vivaldi wipes his mouth, scrutinising his companion. The
first thing to strike the priest is that his clothing is not much to
look at. It’s also quite obvious the man is not local. Lalli must be a
good head taller than the average Venetian. He has a big nose, but
not as coarse as that of Gasparini. His smooth-skinned and close-
shaven face is tanned. The eyebrows are oddly unpronounced, and
it is the eyes beneath them that dominate the face. He could be
Greek, but the accent sounds more like Naples. Then again, might
he come from Sicily? For the first ten minutes the talk is of
everything and nothing. Then the blond man gets down to
business. ‘You have a proposal for me?’
Antonio removes a last fragment of biscuit from his palate
with his tongue and takes another mouthful of wine. ‘That’s right.
To put you in the picture, I am Maestro di Violino at the Ospedale della
Pietà, just round the corner from here.’ Antonio jerks his thumb
casually over his shoulder. ‘I am also the composer of a number of
instrumental works, predominantly concerti. This last year I have
been exploring vocal possibilities and have decided to try my hand
at writing an opera. My friend and mentor Francesco Gasparini,
with whom you are acquainted, suggested that I speak to you. I
understand that there is not much demand for your work at
present.’
Lalli gives the priest a penetrating look, debating with
himself whether or not to tell the truth. He could of course try to save
face by declaring that his days are completely taken up with writing
for certain famous composers. But he knows by now no secret
survives long in this city. If he’s found to be lying he’ll lose this chance
too. So Domenico decides to make the best of a bad job, and a sour
little smile appears on his lips. ‘Alas, you are right. I have all sorts of
ideas, but I’ve discovered the Venetian public is extremely critical.’
‘Mmm,’ Vivaldi wades right in. ‘I’m not sure that’s the right
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