Tonio could read his expression he had disappeared, and then the Contessa was pressing for his attention:
“Tonio, I want you to meet Signore Ruggerio,” she insisted as if it were possible to actually converse in the midst of all this.
He bowed to the man, he accepted his hand. He felt someone tug at him, and saw it was the old Marchesa who again pressed those dry lips to his cheek. He felt a rush of affection for her, her dimly lit eyes, and that creased white skin, and even the hand with which she held him, reptilian and surprisingly strong.
Someone else had loomed up suddenly. The Contessa was talking to the other, the Signore Ruggerio, and just then, unexpectedly, they were pressed together so that she wound her arm about Tonio’s waist. Something had just come clear to him:
“Contessa,” he whispered, “that young woman, the light-haired one.” He realized that he had been expecting every moment to see her, and she simply was not here. A sinking feeling silenced him suddenly, even as he was making lame gestures to describe that wispy hair. “Blue eyes, but very dark blue,” he must have murmured, “and such pretty hair.”
“Why, my little cousin, you mean, my little widow, of course,” said the Contessa, pulling forward yet another gentleman for him to meet. This was an Englishman from the embassy. “She is in mourning, dearest, for her husband, my Sicilian cousin, why I told you all about it, didn’t I? And now she doesn’t want to go back to England.” She shook her head.
“A widow…!” Had he heard her right? He was bowing to someone else. And Signore Ruggerio was saying something of apparent importance to the Contessa and the Contessa was leaving him here!
A widow. Where was Guido? He couldn’t see him anywhere. But then he saw Maestro Cavalla far far across the room, and Guido was with him and so was the Contessa and so was that little man, Ruggerio.
Someone else had hold of him, telling him earnestly he had a magnificent voice and that he should make his debut here at the San Carlos instead of going all the way to Rome. Why did everyone still have to go to Rome?
But a widow, he was thinking; was it possible to cast a more sensual light upon her? Was it possible to make her more enticing, more available, then have her married and widowed in one sentence, removing her forever from that unattainable choir of virgins to which he’d always told himself she surely belonged?
He was excusing himself now to everyone, trying vainly to get across this great expanse of marble floor, to get near to those distant figures, Guido and the Maestro.
And then he saw Paolo, looking the perfect little prince in his finery, rushing towards him through the crowd. He embraced Tonio quickly.
“What are you doing here?” Tonio asked, even as he acknowledged another greeting from the old Russian Count Sherzinski.
“The Maestro said I could come to hear you.” Paolo clung to him; he was obviously so excited by the whole affair he could scarcely speak.
“What do you mean? He knew I was going to sing?”
“Everyone knew,” said Paolo breathlessly. “Piero’s here and so is Gaetano, and…”
“Ahhhh, Guido!” Tonio whispered.
But he was almost laughing.
Quickly he left the gathering this time, pulling Paolo with him just as Guido and the Maestro and the dark gentleman disappeared.
By the time he reached the corridor, they were gone into some parlor, and all the doors were shut. And he had to stop to catch his breath, and just to savor the excitement he felt.
He was so happy all he could do was shut his eyes and smile. “So everyone knew,” he said.
“Yes,” Paolo answered, “and you have never sung better, ever. Tonio, I’ll never forget it as long as I live.”
But then suddenly his little face crinkled and it seemed he was about to cry.
He pressed close to Tonio. At twelve he was a reed of a boy, and he could just push his head into Tonio’s shoulder. The shimmer of pain that came out of him alarmed Tonio.
“Paolo, what is it?”
“I’m sorry, Tonio, it’s only we came to Naples together. And now you’re going to be leaving. And I’ll be alone.”
“But what are you saying? Leaving where? Just because…”
Yet as he was speaking he could hear raised voices coming from one of the rooms down the hall. He tugged Paolo gently, his hand firm on his shoulder to reassure him, and Paolo was