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By Root 761 0

house. Lucia heard from time to time the jingle of the sleds swishing below her windows and the muffled tolling of the bells at Saint Stephen’s Cathedral. It was freezing cold outside. “Fourteen degrees below zero,” she informed Paolina, “and it doesn’t look as if the rest of the winter will be any better. The Court is organising sled races all the way out to Schönbrunn.”21 Writing rambling letters to her sister would have provided a comforting distraction had it not been for the anguished thoughts about her father that inevitably found their way into them. Paolina worried about Lucia being alone; Lucia, in turn, worried about the “agitation” Paolina felt “in seeing Papa so ill.” According to Vespa, that very agitation was the cause of the “heat rushes” Paolina often complained about. He suggested soothing infusions of sorrel, violets and chicory. “You can water down the herbal solution or even mix it with broth if you like,” Lucia added. “And be sure to take it for fifteen to twenty days. It will certainly freshen up your blood.”22

Vespa offered solace but not much hope for Memmo’s condition. The opium he prescribed was a painkiller, not a cure. In December, Lucia’s father sounded a little perkier, and was even fantasising, probably just for the benefit of his oldest daughter, that he might be well enough to travel north to see the newborn as soon as the weather improved. “In the spring, dearest Papa, come and enjoy the dry climate of Vienna,” she urged him, keeping the fantasy alive. “I cannot tell you how happy I would be if such a project came true. The little baby living inside me returns your greetings by way of kicks and turns.”23 To Paolina she confessed more soberly that being so far away from her father at this time was “the heaviest burden” and she saw “as a gift from heaven” the possibility of the three of them being together again.24

Having to rely on the mail for news of her father was tricky. If, for some reason, Paolina’s letter from home did not arrive with the weekly post, Lucia had to content herself “with what my imagination will provide,” which was seldom reassuring. She asked her sister to write down her father’s condition every evening, so she could have a day-by-day progress report when the mail arrived. “It will only take you a minute at the end of the day and you will be doing the most charitable work, I assure you.”25

At Christmas Lucia was alone, save for a brief visit from trusty old Vespa. It was too cold to go to midnight mass, the doctor told her. She stayed home, holding her growing belly as she stood by the window and watched the snow falling on Kohlmarkt. Her thoughts were fixed on her father. On Boxing Day she wrote to Paolina that the last thing she wanted was for him to tire himself in his effort to reassure her:

My poor, beloved Papa, in spite of all his pain, he must have thought I would feel anxious without a letter from him. But of course I renounce what brings consolation only to me. I beg him not to weary himself by writing just to satisfy my longing to have news of him. To hear that he is well again is all that my heart desires, so that I may continue to dream of hugging him—and you—somewhere on the way back home.26

By January, Lucia was receiving daily accounts from Paolina “that truly make me feel as if I were with you.” The general outlook was not discouraging. Despite her entreaties, Memmo sent her a few “very lively and tender lines that gave me real comfort.” But the delay caused by the long distance the post had to cover created a false impression. The situation had in fact worsened. By the time Lucia received that last note from her father, he was already dead.

Fearful of the impact Memmo’s death might have on Lucia and the baby, Alvise left immediately for Vienna. He had already planned to be with Lucia when she delivered and with that in mind he had obtained a six-month leave of absence from his government duties. Now he hastened his departure in order to be the one to tell Lucia about her father’s death. He reached Vienna in less than a week despite a difficult