she demands of him, clearly deeply insulted.
‘Absolutely not,’ he rushes to reassure her. My God, why
had he ever tried to find her?
‘What do you remember of that evening?’ she asks more
mildly.
Antonio smiles tenderly. ‘Your hands! And the multitude of
questions you put to me, so many that I thought they would never
end. And how I enjoyed your company, and how I loved having
someone take such an interest in me. Do you understand?’ He looks
her straight in the eyes and clearly sees returning his gaze the
person of ten years before. Slightly older, but with the same aura
that back then seemed to envelop him in warmth, offering
protection from all the ills of the world.
He is suffused with a strange mixture of alienation and
shame. Never before has he admitted such feelings to another
human being. ‘Do you know,’ he confesses, ‘what has preoccupied
me all this time?’
Watching him closely, she shakes her head.
‘Your name, I do not even know your name.’
With a quick laugh she drops him a little curtsey, so that
the tension between them is broken. ‘Paolina Tessieri. How do you
do?’
‘Paolina.’ He breathes her name, never to forget it again.
The two agree to drink some tea together in the shade of a coffee-
house. From where they sit beneath the arcade, Paolina can keep
an eye on her sister while trying to resettle her mind. Where do
they go from here? Neither she nor Antonio brings up the subject
of their former encounter. ‘I never saw you again after that evening.
Were you only in Venice for a short time?’
‘I returned your violin, but unfortunately you were not in.
Shortly afterwards I travelled to Ferrara and then on home to
Mantua. Since my mother left our father I have been taking care of
Annina.’
‘A huge responsibility! What are your plans once Annina is
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