Paolo was waiting for him, and he knew that Paolo needed him now. Something had frightened Paolo. But for the moment he was almost powerless to speak.
She had wanted to come! Never, never had he expected this, and it was as if a thin membrane that separated his two lives had suddenly been broken; and a soft, eerie, intoxicating sense of her was seeping through. Never in all these years had he felt such an abrupt and total awareness of her presence, the perfume of her skin, even the texture of her hair. It was as if she were at his shoulder weeping, angry, and struggling to embrace him.
His feelings were so violent and so unusual to him that he found himself on his feet before he realized it and moving across the room.
“Tonio!” Paolo tugged at him. “You don’t know what they’re saying in the cares, Tonio, it’s dreadful….”
“Shhh, not now,” he whispered. But even as he spoke the membrane was healing itself, separating her from him, putting her with all her love and misery far, far away from him in that other life that he no longer lived. What if he were some simple singer, long separated from her? What would it have meant to know she wanted to be here?
“You’re a fool,” he whispered. “All they have to do is reach out for you, and you bare your heart.”
He drew himself up and turning back, he took Paolo by the shoulders, and then lifted his chin.
“What is it? Tell me. It couldn’t have been all that bad.”
“Tonio, you don’t know what they’re saying. They think Bettichino is the greatest singer in Europe. They say it’s an outrage you should appear on the same stage.”
“Paolo, they always say things like that,” Tonio said softly, soothingly. He took out his handkerchief and wiped at Paolo’s face.
“No, but Tonio, they say you’re a nothing from nowhere, it’s all a lie about your being a highborn Venetian. They’re saying you were hired for your looks. They called Farinelli il ragazzo—the boy—when he started. And they’re saying you’ll be called la ragazzina—the girl. And if the girl can’t sing, they’ll get up a dowry for you so you can be shut up in a proper convent where no one has to listen to your voice.”
Tonio started laughing in spite of himself.
“Paolo, that’s nonsense,” he said.
“But Tonio, you should hear them.”
“All it means,” Tonio said, brushing Paolo’s hair out of his eyes, “is that the theater will be packed on opening night.”
“No, no, Tonio, they won’t listen to you. That’s what Signora Bianchi is afraid of. They’ll shriek and howl and stamp their feet. They’re not going to give you a chance.”
“We’ll see about that,” Tonio whispered. Though he wondered if Paolo could see him turning pale. He felt certain he was slightly pale.
“Tonio, what are we going to do? Signora Bianchi says when they’re in a mood like this they can close the theater down, and it’s all Signora Grimaldi’s fault, mat’s what started it. She came to town and said you sang better than Farinelli. That’s what made them say all that about Farinelli.”
“Signora Grimaldi?” Tonio said in a small voice. “But who is Signora Grimaldi?”
“Tonio, you know who she is, she’s mad for you. She was always in the front row in Naples when you sang. And now she’s got them all stirred up. Last night, she told everyone at the English ambassador’s that you were the greatest since Farinelli, and that she’d heard Farinelli in London. You know what the Romans are saying, who is an Englishwoman to tell them.”
“Paolo, stop for a moment. Who is she? What does she look like?”
“Oh, blond hair, messy hair, you know, Tonio. She’s the one who was married to the Contessa’s cousin, and now she’s rich and all she does is paint….”
Tonio underwent such a change that Paolo was silent for a moment.
“Tonio!” Paolo tugged at his hand. “They were bad before she came, but now they’re impossible. Signora Bianchi says a crowd like that can shut the theater down.”
“She’s in Rome….” Tonio whispered.
“Yes, she’s in Rome. I wish she were in London,” Paolo declared. “And she’s with Maestro Guido right now.”
Tonio’s eyes shifted to Paolo at once.
“What do you mean, she’s with Guido?”
“They’re at the Contessa’s villa. She’s getting settled.” Paolo shrugged. “Tonio, what are we going to do?”
“Stop being so foolish,” Tonio murmured. “This isn’t her fault. Everyone’s excited about the opera, that’s all. If they weren’t