The Glassblower of Murano - Marina Fiorato [33]
He could already work with glass like no-one Giacomo had seen.
The Council was disposed to keep Corradino alive. The Manin family was no threat any more, it was practically wiped out, and Corradino would be kept, like all other maestri, a prisoner on Murano.
How were any of those gathered on that day, when Giacomo pled for Corradino's life, to know that they were wrong about the fortunes of the Manin family? How was poor dead Corrado Manin to know that his family would rise at last to greatness, and that one of his descendants would occupy the throne of the Doge? And how were any of them to know that Lodovico Manin would be the last Doge ofVenice who would, in that very chamber, sign the death warrant of the Republic? That when he put his hand to the Treaty of Campo Formic, in 1797 the city would be sold to Austria, and Manin's signature would sit below that of Venice's new ruler, Napoleon Bonaparte?
If the Council had known, they would not have spared Corradino Manin. But they did not know, and they did spare him.
Not through the quality of mercy, but because of the mirrors that he made.
CHAPTER 9
Paradiso Perduto
Leonora got to the Cantina Do Mori at a quarter to three on Saturday. As she looked at the frontage of the cafe with its distinctive bottle-glass doors she wondered if she had been the victim of an elaborate joke. Perhaps Officer Bardolino was laughing at her with his workmates. Leonora gave herself a little shake - this wasn't primary school. She had been so affected by her situation at work that the shoots of her paranoia were taking hold. The man seemed to be in earnest - no doubt he would like to find a tenant for his cousin. She would just go in and wait.
It was raining so the cafe was quite busy. But despite the crowds Leonora found a quiet table at the back under a huge double mirror. She admired the workmanship, and the slightly greeny-gold look of old glass in its gilded baroque frame. The bevel seemed perfect to her although she knew the work must be centuries old. She ordered an espresso and looked around at her leisure. The clientele today were clearly Venetian - the waiter had addressed her in Veneziano, and she had surprised herself with the force with which she replied in her fluent Italian, echoing his local accent with her own. Once again she felt pleased that Officer Bardolino had suggested this place. It was still a secret well kept from the tourist hordes. Then it occurred to her that he was, in a courteous way, attempting to give her a treat.
If he shows up.
But she need not have worried. On the dot of three, with the characteristic efficiency he had shown in her interview, he walked through the doors. She was taken aback by the fact that he was now in jeans and a smart jacket - more as she had first seen him in Santa Maria della Pieta. Leonora had somehow, ridiculously, pictured him turning up in uniform. But he still recalled the painting - what was it? - and turned the heads of a group of lunching ladies. With a sort of shock, as he brushed the raindrops from his black curls, Leonora faced the facts.
He's a very good-looking man. They all see it too.
She felt a whisper of fear.
He greeted her, sat, and summoned the waiter with practised ease. He shed his jacket, and settled back on the bench comfortably. He seemed to have a certain elegance coupled with an ability to be instantly comfortable, like a cat. Leonora smiled and waited for their discourse to begin. She felt suddenly confident. Would he enter straight into the business of the day or engage in pleasantries first?
`Why are you drinking coffee?'
Leonora laughed. His question seemed so incongruous that it caught her by surprise.
`You are laughing at me,' he said, caught between amusement and annoyance.
`A little. Why shouldn't I drink coffee? Have I made some sort of social faux pas?'
`No, no. I just wondered if you were . . .' he searched for the word, `teetotal. Such a strange English word. I always