obsessive, relentless way, wondering what it was now they said of him, if anyone, anyone, believed that he had done this to himself as the lie had been told.
But that was not it. It was that if he let that voice out of him, if he let it go, it could no longer be the voice of the boy who had sung with such exuberance, it would be the voice of this creature now that would never change. The thought of it was too much; it was like giving in to them, and it was entering into the very nightmare role they had written for him as if this life were an opera, and they had given him this hideous part.
It was shame, shame that he felt at the mere sound of it in his head. Might as well tear open one’s clothes and let them stare at the scars there, that withered empty…
He sucked in his breath and stopped. He was sitting up.
But when he heard the door open, now, he put his hands up to receive his bent head.
He knew that it was Guido who had come in, but he did not know why he knew, and he felt the tug of the real world at him again, ready to pick him up.
He raised his eyes, resigned to surrender himself once more, and he saw that it was the Maestro di Cappella, Signore Cavalla, who was standing in front of him with Tonio’s sword outstretched in both hands. “Take it,” he whispered.
Tonio did not understand. He saw then the stiletto on the desk, and his pistols, and the purse which had been taken by the Maestro when he first came.
The man’s face was ashen. Its anger was gone. And in the place of it was some awful emotion which Tonio could not identify. He did not understand.
“There is no reason for you to remain longer in this place,” the Maestro said. “I have written to your family at Venice that they must make other arrangements. But you need not remain here any longer. You must get out.”
He stopped. Even in the shadows, Tonio could see that his jaw was trembling. But this was not anger. “Yes. Your trunks have arrived. Your carriage is in the stable yard. You must go.”
Tonio said nothing. He did not even take the sword.
“This is Maestro Guido’s decision, then?” he asked.
The Maestro stepped to one side and laid the sword on the bed. Righting himself, he looked down at Tonio for a long moment.
“I would like…to speak to him,” Tonio said.
“No.”
“I cannot leave without speaking to him!”
“No.”
“But surely you cannot forbid me….”
“I can forbid you anything as long as you are under this roof!” said the Maestro. “Now leave this place, and take with you the sorrow you have brought! Go.”
Tonio stared in confusion as the Maestro left the room.
He stood still.
And then buckling on the sword, arming himself again with his pistols and his stiletto, he gathered up the purse and slowly opened the door.
The corridor before the front entrance of the conservatorio was empty. The Maestro’s office gaped, a dark cavern with an odd look of neglect about it because it was invariably shut up.
And there seemed no sounds now in the building. In fact the silence was remarkable, and even the long practice room which always housed a few boys at this hour was perfectly still.
Tonio walked the length of the corridor and looked down the hallway which extended to the back of the building where lights burned beyond a door.
He thought that he saw the silhouette of the Maestro di Cappella, and then that figure commenced to come towards him with slow, rhythmic steps. It was shrouded in shadow. And there was an eerie deliberation to its approach. He watched it with some vague uncomfortable curiosity until again he and this man were standing face-to-face.
“Do you wish to see the results of your stubbornness? Do you wish to look with your own eyes?”
The man’s hand closed around his wrist and jerked him forward. Tonio resisted, but he was yanked again.
“Where are you taking me?” he demanded. “For what?”
Silence.
He was walking fast, ignoring the pain in his wrist, his eyes fixed on the profile of the Maestro’s face.
“Let go of me!” he said when they had all but reached the final door. But the Maestro gave him a furious pull and thrust him into this lighted room.
For a moment he could see nothing. He lifted his hand to shield himself