Lucia - Andrea Di Robilant [90]
Alvise brought Lucia and Alvisetto to the safe enclave of Alvisopoli to spare the family further embarassment. Paolina, ever the thoughtful sister, immediately came to visit with her own children so that Alvisetto could meet his cousins. “I am so deeply grateful to you for your show of affection at this moment,” Lucia wrote movingly after her sister had left.4
After four years spent in near seclusion with Signora Antonia, Alvisetto had a lot to contend with: new parents, a large family and a great deal of attention from everyone at Alvisopoli. And of course his new name—the traditional Mocenigo Christian name, borne by his father, his grandfather and his great-grandfather. Lucia too, had so much to learn, so much ground to make up. It was exciting and overwhelming at the same time. During those first days with Alvisetto there were moments of pure joy and moments when she felt so awkward she could not even find the right tone of voice to use with her son or the proper attitude.
Two weeks after their reunion, Alvisetto behaved badly during his lesson with his tutor—he was learning the alphabet—and Lucia told him he was going to have his dinner alone in his room and not at the table with her. “He started to cry uncontrollably so we left him to himself, thinking it was only a display of anger,” she wrote, seeking advice from her more experienced younger sister:
But the tutor took on a serious expression as he realised Alvisetto was crying not out of anger at all but because he was truly suffering. So he was moved to ask me that I forgive the child, which of course I immediately did. Alvisetto, however, would not stop weeping. Everyone in the house tried to comfort him, but the sobs kept coming and coming. He didn’t quiet down until much later, at which point he finished his lesson and, without anyone telling him, he got on his knees and asked the Lord to forgive him.5
Every day Lucia picked up new signs of Alvisetto’s sensitive nature:
When he passes workmen sweating in the fields he shakes his head and says “poor men…” The same thing happens if he sees peasants walking barefoot or with not enough clothes. He feels pain for the suffering of other people. Just the other day the village priest was preparing a show of tricks, and Alvisetto went to watch him get ready. The door to the back room was open and the priest was practising sticking a knife in his hand. He greeted Alvisetto with the thing still hanging from his palm. Alvisetto burst out crying convinced the priest was injured. But although he is sensitive, he is also very courageous, a combination that seems to foreshadow an excellent nature. When he injures himself it is always others who notice because of the bruises. He will say, “It’s nothing, I’ll never give you worries of that kind.” Nothing seems to frighten him. We stopped by a peasant’s house where there was music and dancing because one of them had married. Alvisetto loves music and dancing and he was busy watching the festa. Suddenly we heard a shot, and then another—the custom on these occasions is to fire pistols out the window. Well, Alvisetto didn’t bat an eyelid even though the shots were at very close range. All he wanted to know was how the pistols had fired and whether there would be more shots.6
In early April Lucia took Alvisetto with her to the thermal waters of Abano, in the Euganean Hills. She took a cure of mud baths to improve her circulation and invigorate her skin. Alvisetto did his homework in the morning and went out for walks with his mother in the afternoon. He seemed at ease with himself, happy with his new life and growing increasingly attached to his mother. In early May, the two of them finally made the week-long trip