Lucia - Andrea Di Robilant [88]
We all have to walk down the same path, and to let yourself go like this to a loss that is Heaven’s will is not a Christian behaviour…Don’t lose control, don’t allow grief to become so overwhelming that it will destroy your health, because you will only hurt those who love you without bringing back to life those who have ceased to be mortals.37
Lucia spoke from her own experience, and in the steely words she addressed to Paolina one catches an echo of the struggle with the death of her own son. She warned Alvise that if Paolina gave the slightest sign of illness, she was getting on the first post to Venice, and was going to travel night and day by the Pontiebba road—the shortest route but the roughest—and he should not try to stop her. Her greatest fear was to see her sister succumb to her grief. “If such a thing should occur,” she pleaded with Paolina, “I beg you to inform me by special courier, or even better, by sending someone in person.”38
The summer in Margarethen was stressful enough, what with the staff not getting along, the accounts in disorder, and the German manager utterly unreliable. But the lack of any kind of distraction—no interesting excursions, no amusing guests—made the waiting even more nerve-racking. Lucia did a little gardening around the house, played cards with Margherita, read a new collection of moral essays by Madame de Genlis and ate large quantities of pan casalino. Her only break came in September, when she went to Baden for a cycle of mud baths and soakings, but that was hardly much fun: she had her period and did not bother to finish the cure. On her last night there, the empress invited her to her box at the theatre and she was surprised to find herself placed next to the emperor—a seating arrangement that would have made her quite boastful only a few months before, but which she now related rather matter-of-factly to her sister.
Back in Margarethen, Lucia found a letter from Alvise. He urged her to leave for Alvisopoli at once. He gave no explanation for the sudden rush, but his tone was harsh. A feeling of dread came over Lucia as she became certain that there was only one possible reason for such a cold summons on the part of her husband: he had discovered the truth about Massimiliano. During the following days she turned silent and numb as she packed her things. She left Margarethen on All Saint’s Day and headed for the mountains. The weather was cold and rainy and she no longer looked forward to the rough journey across the Alps.
Chapter Seven
THE EDUCATION OF ALVISETTO
Lucia returned to Vienna in May 1804, six months after her hurried departure to Italy. As she stepped out of the carriage in front of the house, a little boy, his eyes still puffy from the long journey, clung shyly to her travelling cape. Lucia’s maid, Margherita, and the rest of the staff—Teresa, Felicita and Marietta, the new cook—came rushing out to give him a festive welcome. They clapped their hands, hugged him and planted kisses on his cheeks.
Despite being a rather plain-looking four-year-old, Alvisetto (for this was now Massimiliano’s name) had a sweet expression and a searching gaze that made him seem somewhat older than his age. At first bewildered by the attention, he eventually joined in the merry clamour, as children do even when they are not quite sure what the fuss is all about. He was escorted to his room, where he found books and toys waiting for him. An extra bed was prepared for him in Lucia’s bedroom in case he should be afraid at night.
For a moment Lucia had the feeling she had walked into a different apartment from the one she had left, busier but also brighter and more spacious. Only after settling in did she realise that a row of buildings on the other side of Saint Stephen’s Square had been torn down during her absence. There was now twice as much light streaming in through the tall windows overlooking the square.
After a light meal, Lucia took advantage of the fine spring weather to go for a walk with Alvisetto to the Prater. They visited the Carousel