The girl wouldn’t go home to England; she wouldn’t look for another husband. She wanted to be a painter instead.
“I always liked her,” Guido murmured with only a little interest. He was thinking of Tonio. “And she is skilled at it. Why, she paints like a man.”
The Contessa could not understand it, a woman wishing to set up a studio of her own, a woman mounting the scaffolding in a church or a palazzo to hold a paintbrush in her hand.
“You won’t turn your back on her, will you?” Guido asked gently. The girl was so young.
“Heavens, no,” said the Contessa. “She isn’t my flesh and blood, after all. Besides, my cousin was seventy when he married her. I owe her something for that.”
And with a sigh, she observed the girl was rich enough to do anything she wanted on her own.
“Bring her with you to Rome for the opera,” Guido said sleepily. “Maybe she’ll find a suitable husband here.”
“It’s hopeless,” said the Contessa. “But she is coming. She wouldn’t miss Tonio’s first appearance for the world.”
Now as he made his way slowly down the corridor to his rooms, Guido saw light under his door. And he was half glad of it until he remembered the animosity between him and Tonio, and then he felt slightly anxious turning the knob.
Tonio was awake and fully dressed. He was sitting by himself in a corner, and he was drinking a glass of red wine. He didn’t rise when Guido came in, but he glanced up and his eyes caught the light.
“You needn’t have waited for me,” Guido said almost sharply. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
Tonio didn’t answer. He rose slowly and approached Guido, watching from a little distance as Guido removed his cape. Guido had not rung for the valet. He did not really like servants about him and he could easily undress himself.
“Guido,” Tonio said in a cautious whisper, “can we leave this house?”
“What do you mean, leave this house?”
Guido removed his shoes, and hung his jacket on a peg. “You might pour me some wine,” he said. “I’m very tired.”
“I mean leave this house,” Tonio repeated. “I mean live somewhere else. I have money enough.”
“What are you saying?” Guido demanded caustically. But he felt the slightest twinge of that terror that had been threatening him for days. “What’s the matter with you?” he said, narrowing his eyes.
Tonio shook his head. The wine made his lips glisten. His face was drawn.
“What’s happened? Answer me,” Guido said impatiently. “Why do you want to leave this house?”
“Please don’t be angry with me,” Tonio said slowly, with great emphasis on each word.
“If you don’t tell me what you’re talking about, I’m going to hit you. I haven’t done that in years. But I’ll do it now,” Guido said, “if you don’t come to the point.”
He could see the despair in Tonio’s face, and the recoiling, but he could not relent.
“All right, then I shall tell you plainly,” Tonio said in a low voice. “The Cardinal sent for me this evening. He said he could not sleep. He said he needed music to quiet him. There was a small harpsichord in his bedroom. He asked me to play, and to sing.”
He was watching Guido as he spoke. Guido could barely hear the words. He found himself picturing the scene, and he felt an uncomfortable warmth in his chest.
“And so?” he demanded angrily.
“It wasn’t music that he wanted,” Tonio said. This was terribly difficult for him, and then he added, “Though I doubt he realized it himself.”
“Then how did you realize it?” Guido snapped. “And don’t tell me you refused him!”
Tonio’s face was blank with shock.
Guido lifted his hand in a state of pure exasperation. He made a little circle, pacing, and then he threw up his hands.
Tonio stood accusing him silently.
“How did you leave him?” Guido asked. “Was he angry? What actually took place?”
Tonio obviously couldn’t bring himself to answer. He was staring at Guido as if Guido had struck him.
“Tonio, listen to me,” Guido said. He swallowed; he knew that he must not betray the panic he felt. “Go back to him, and for the love of God have patience with what he wants. We are in his house, Tonio, he is our patron here. He is the Contessa’s cousin, and he is a prince of the church….”
“A prince of the church, is he?” Tonio said. “Have patience with what he wants! And what am I, Guido? What am I?”