way at his command like water, he beckoned for Guido to come in. Allowing his ring to be kissed, he then embraced Guido, saying that his cousin’s musicians must live in his house as long as they desired.
His body was full of movement, his eyes narrow with gaiety.
“Do you need instruments?” he asked. “I shall be happy to send for them. You have only to tell my secretary, and he will obtain for you what you want.”
He took Paolo’s face in his hands and carefully ran his thumb over Paolo’s cheek, and Paolo warmed to this as was his nature, drawing up instinctively as the Cardinal pressed him against his long crimson robe.
“But where is your singer?” he asked.
And when he looked up at Tonio, he appeared to see him for the first time.
There was an undisguised moment of absorption, a change in the Cardinal which Guido could almost feel. It seemed those around him must surely notice it, as Tonio stepped forward to kiss the Cardinal’s ring.
Tonio was only slightly disheveled from the carriage, his dark green velvet frock coat was only a little dusty, and he had for Guido the look of an angel in mortal dress. His increasing height had never made him awkward, and the last two years of fencing had caused him to move almost like a dancer, all of his gestures seemingly hypnotic, though Guido wasn’t sure why. It was that they were so slow perhaps; even the raising and lowering of Tonio’s eyes was very slow.
The Cardinal’s mouth was slack. He watched Tonio as if Tonio were doing something startling and unfamiliar, and then he stared at Tonio with no expression in his pale gray eyes. His eyes darkened slightly.
Guido felt an unwelcome warmth under his clothes; he imagined the heat of this crowded room was suffocating him. Yet as he saw the expression on Tonio’s face, the manner in which he regarded the Cardinal, and felt what seemed a fathomless silence around them all, he experienced more than a twinge of fear. Of course this was not at all as he was imagining it, surely.
Who would not notice a young boy of such remarkable beauty, and who would not look upon a man such as His Eminence without a certain measure of awe?
Yet the fear in Guido subsided only slowly, echoing all of his heavy thoughts during the journey to Rome; his anxiety over a thousand practical details to do with the coming opera, and most unexpectedly, his preoccupation with the loss of his own voice years before.
“I have never much enjoyed the opera,” the Cardinal was saying to Tonio gently. “I fear I know little of that world altogether, but it will be very pleasant indeed to have a singer to perform for us after the evening meal.”
Tonio stiffened. Guido could sense the slight but predictable injury to Tonio’s pride. Tonio did what he always did when treated as a common musician; he looked down for a long moment, and then up again slowly before saying with subtle weight: “Yes, my lord?”
The Cardinal had perceived that something was wrong. It was a curious thing to witness, but he took Tonio’s hand again and said: “You will be kind enough to sing for me, won’t you?”
“I should be honored, my lord,” Tonio said graciously, the prince talking to the prince.
Then the Cardinal laughed with infectious innocence; and turning to his secretary, said like a child almost: “This will give my enemies something to talk about for a change.”
* * *
Immediately they were ensconced in a chain of vast rooms overlooking an inner garden where the grass was shaved and the trees made discrete shadows on the ground. They unpacked; they roamed about; Paolo became very excited when he saw the bed he was to sleep in, with its puce curtains and carved headboard. And Guido realized that of course he and Tonio must take separate chambers, and for Paolo’s sake, sleep apart.
By late afternoon, Guido had his scores laid out, and he had reread the letters of introduction the Contessa had given him. He would begin at once attending every conversazione, concert, or informal academy open to him. He must talk to people about the operas that had succeeded here in recent years; he must hear what he could of the local singers. The Cardinal’s secretaries had already produced the scores and librettos he wanted. And tonight he would go to his first little concert in an Englishman’s home.