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`How do you know of my family?'

`You mentioned a man of my country that you loved well. He is known to me also.'

`Monsieur Loisy? He lives?'

`He does not'The voice was brief. `He was betrayed and the assassins found him. But not before he could tell us of his extraordinary pupil. You see, he never lost his concern for you and your well-being. He made enquiries and found that you lived, and were working on Murano. He followed your progress, as did we. But those who seek can also be found. His tracing of you led to the tracing of him. He was found, and poisoned by The Ten as he visited these shores hoping for sight of you.'

Corradino's head throbbed with his pulses and he could barely draw breath. Sadness for Loisy, and love for his loyalty, could not be given space here as the questions succeeded one upon the other. `How do you know this?' `Because I was one of those that aided him.!

'And stood by as he was murdered?'

`Loisy was warned not to return here. He did not heed my advice. You should not emulate him.'

Corradino held the eyes of the silent Baccia as his stomach lurched. The treacherous coffee beans ground the humours in his stomach and left a residue in his mouth - he tasted them and this evil news together. His searching brain at last found the needful question. `What do you want of me?'

`We want your skills. What else?'

`And who is We?'

`Myself, of course. But more importantly, His Majesty King Louis XIV of France.'

Corradino choked. He stared into Baccia's bloodshot orbs, traced the map of capillaries he saw there as if perusing the royal bloodlines of France.

`What can you mean?'

`All will be told to you in time. But know this. We can help you; give you the life you deserve, in Paris. You will be feted as an artist, celebrated as a genius, not treated as a menial slave as you are here. We can give you riches, and nobility. Think of it - your country of Venice has used you for her ends, to augment her beauty, but has given you nothing. She has enslaved you - you, of the noble line of Manin. Not only that, but she has taken your family from you,' the voice paused, `nearly all your family.'

Corradino's head snapped left and again he met the pewter eyes. What followed was little more than a whisper from the Frenchman.

`You could bring her too.'

Leonora. He knows of Leonora.

`Don't decide now,' said the voice as Corradino turned away in sick turmoil. `You must not tarry here or we will be discovered. Stay and talk with Signor Baccia. He will make all seem as usual - he will order somewhat of you, and you must take the measurements and write them in your vellum notebook as you always do. Then leave, go back to Murano, and do nothing. Presently your foreman will tell you of a commission at the Old Theatre, and that you are to come to Venice to meet with a Maestro Domenico about a candlebra. If you come to this meeting you will see me again - I will be Maestro Domenico, and I will tell you of the King's desires. If you decide you want no more of this, plead of sickness and send another in your place. We will not trouble you again.'

Corradino felt the shoulders shift as the Frenchman rose. As Duparcmieur adjusted his cloak and mask he said, in a final undertone, `Think on this, Corradino. What do you owe your Republic of Venice? Why not begin again, in France, with your daughter?'

Then, with a flourish, he was gone.

Corradino sat, as if stunned, as the proprietario went mechanically through his instructions for a mirror that would never be made. Then he made his way through the crowds of San Marco as if sleepwalking, while his ever-present shadow followed him. In his stupor he almost wandered towards San Zaccaria, to the Pieta, to tell Leonora. But he checked himself. He must not risk it, not when the footsteps were following. He must not spoil it now.

Not now that there is a way for us to be together.

CHAPTER 11

The Merchant of Venice

As soon as Leonora entered Adelino's office, and took the proffered