again. Courteous as ever, the prince enquires how things are with
Antonio.
‘Has Don Vivaldi plans for the coming carnevale? None?
What a shame. Do you know Geremia del Sette?’ The ambassador
pauses whilst Vivaldi tries to recall the name. ‘A soprano castrato of
unprecedented talent,’ he adds.
‘I’m sorry,’ admits Antonio, drawing a blank.
‘Would you be prepared to audition this protégé of mine?’
asks the prince.
‘Most certainly,’ replies Vivaldi. ‘It is the least I can do for
Your Excellency.’
‘Have you had any further thoughts concerning Ferrara?’
‘I have, Your Excellency, and I am not sure whether I can
expose myself to so great a risk again.’
The ambassador waves aside his words. ‘Do not concern
yourself about that, Don Vivaldi. I have fully acquainted the new
cardinal with the facts, and he will not place the slightest obstacle
in your path.’
The priest stares at the prince. The man clearly means
every word he says. But dare he suggest such a thing to Paolina?
‘I look forward to meeting your protégé, and once I have
heard him shall suggest which libretto I think most suits him.’
With a smile meant to convey ‘future assured’, the
ambassador thanks Vivaldi for his visit, and, to emphasise his
sincerity, hands him a purse containing twenty-five ducats. The
priest takes grateful possession of the money, and with it the
knowledge that he must now fulfil the prince’s request.
The castrato is not too bad, but Vivaldi is not over-impressed. Given
the singer’s voice and presentation, Antonio thinks Geremia del
Sette best fitted for the role of the King of Persia in his opera Siroe,
re di Persia. This work, set to music by Vivaldi about a decade
previously, is now retrieved and spread before him for revision, as
requested in a letter from the impresario of the theatre in Ancona.
The man wants it ready for the summer season. The honorarium is
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