Farewell to the Flesh (37 page)

“
I shall die
—
but one last wish
,

By God, at least grant me
.

My only son let me

Hold close to my heart
.…

Do not reject the pleas

Of a mother's heart
.

I shall die
—
but this body

May be consoled by his kisses
,

For the end is in sight

Of my fleeting hours.…

His hand he will extend

To close the eyes of his mother

Whom he will never see again”

Extended cries of “Brava!” sounded after her performance. The duet that followed between Terisio and the tenor, Michele Altieri, in the role of Riccardo, though good, was under the shadow of her aria. It wasn't until Riccardo's “Ma se m'è forza,” with its expression of foreboding and fated desire, with its advice to Amelia to imprison her memories in the secret depths of her heart, that the guests were captivated again.

The three then sang “Tu qui” and when they had finished there were rousing cheers. The Contessa went up on the platform. A waiter brought bouquets of flowers that the Contessa presented to the singers. If the Contessa's ball had ended now, there would have been good reason to consider it a thorough success, but there was still an hour until midnight.

No sooner had the Contessa and the singers left the platform than Tonio Vico stepped up on it. He had discarded his cloak. His hair was damp with perspiration and a purplish bruise marked his neck. In his flawless Italian, he addressed the guests, many of whom had already started to move toward the buffet table and were engaged in conversation. As he spoke, Urbino saw that once again Filippo Borelli was translating for Dora Spaak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, after such a wonderful performance I cannot hope to give you anything except what makes my own heart happy. Most of you hardly even know me but you know that some sorrow and difficulty came to an end for me this evening in the Piazza San Marco. Carnival isn't over yet but I can't wear my mask any longer.” He pulled his red half mask from his face and threw it into the air. “I must express the truth of my heart as our wonderful soprano, Signora Terisio, did a few minutes ago. Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to announce my engagement to Signorina Hazel Reeve!”

To initially weak, but gradually growing applause Hazel joined Tonio Vico, her mask with its red and white lozenges now around her slender neck. She looked embarrassed, even a little frightened, and for one brief moment her eyes locked with Urbino's.

The Contessa, who had joined an astonished-looking Dora Spaak, Filippo Borelli, and Berenice Pillow in the corner by the icons and triptych, had a fixed smile on her face. Here was some entertainment she hadn't planned herself and she must be wondering if it was going to be a good addition to the evening. She was a woman who found it difficult to trust in the unforeseen or unprovided-for, no matter how many times they had brought her pleasure. For her they were almost synonymous with the chaotic.

The Contessa had a bottle of champagne brought to the engaged couple and told her guests to join her in a toast.

“Please, Mother, would you come up here with Hazel and me?” Tonio said enthusiastically.

Berenice Pillow smiled and walked slowly to the stage. Her stepson took her hand and helped her up. She kissed him, then Hazel, and was given a glass of champagne. The orchestra, at Vico's request, started to play “Nel Blu Dipinto di Blu,” but not before the conductor had looked at the Contessa for her approval. It seemed her costume ball was going to have some popular songs after all. The guests, clearly enjoying the music, started to dance.

Tonio Vico seemed somewhat at a loss as to what he should do next—dance with Hazel or with his stepmother, whom he had called to join them. Urbino was going to the stage to ask Mrs. Pillow to dance when shouts came from the grand staircase at the entrance of the
salone da ballo
.

Xenia Campi, melted snow glistening on her knit cap and dark cloak, was arguing with Mauro at the head of the staircase. When he put his hand on her shoulder, she shook if off violently. The orchestra continued to play but gradually most of the couples stopped dancing. Those who didn't slowed down their movements and tried to see what was going on. The Contessa hurried over to Xenia Campi and Mauro, saying something to the woman and taking her hand. Mauro started to help Xenia Campi off with her cloak but the woman moved away from the staircase and into the
salone
itself. The first place she looked was at the stage where Hazel Reeve, Vico, and Berenice Pillow were standing in front of the orchestra, now silent. Hazel's eyes were large with nervousness but her future mother-in-law had a tentative smile on her face as if she expected to witness another installment of the evening's entertainment. Vico had his arm protectively around Hazel's shoulder.

Urbino went across the room to Xenia Campi.

“Signora Campi, what a pleasure that you've joined us. Can I get something for you? Perhaps you would like to go into one of the reception rooms for a few minutes.”

Urbino knew he would have the Contessa's eternal gratitude if he could maneuver the woman out of the
salone
. But Xenia Campi would have none of it. She shook her head and stepped forward a few more feet.

“Maybe she's upset about Rigoletti,” the Contessa said to him in English.

At the sound of her former husband's name Xenia Campi turned to glare at the Contessa.

“The password is Death!” she shouted.

The Contessa was visibly taken aback at Xenia Campi's words. Some of the guests started to laugh uneasily and Urbino heard one of the Contessa's Dorsoduro artist friends explaining to a young American girl who worked at the Guggenheim that these were words from the opera.

“It's the password of the conspirators at the masked ball.” The artist thought that Xenia Campi was playing a role. “She's Ulrica, the soothsayer, you see. Delightful! Barbara has such an imagination.”

Did Xenia Campi know the opera or know that it was the theme of the Contessa's own
ballo in maschera?
Or were her words merely coincidentally appropriate? Perhaps because he had as recently as yesterday been thinking of “The Fall of the House of Usher” right before being accosted by Xenia Campi, Poe's “The Masque of the Red Death” now came into his mind. Prince Prospero, to escape the plague ravaging his country, throws a voluptuous masked ball only to discover that the uninvited guest, dressed in a winding sheet and with a masklike death's-head, is the Red Death itself. Prince Prospero and all his guests die.

As Urbino looked into Xenia Campi's glittering eyes, he involuntarily shivered.

“Conspirators all of you!” she shouted, still keeping Urbino guessing as to whether or not she was familiar with the opera. Her gaze swept contemptuously over him, the Contessa, Sister Teresa, Dora Spaak, and some of the guests. She raised her hand. “You all dance and sing while Venice is being destroyed! You're just as bad as the ones out in the Piazza, screaming in the snow. You're all guilty. All of you. Blood is on your hands and on your feet, too!”

She found this immensely funny and started to laugh wildly. By now it was evident that there was no point in trying to pacify her. She had to be removed from the ballroom. Urbino nodded to Mauro and took one of Xenia Campi's arms. She pulled away and moved deeper into the crowd of guests, scattering them and making a path for herself. Before Urbino and Mauro were able to grab her she had focused her attention once again on Hazel, Vico, and Mrs. Pillow, who were still on the stage.

“You've got blood on your hands!” she said, gesticulating wildly at the stage. “May God forgive you!”

Hazel Reeve fainted into Vico's arms while his stepmother stood there, the smile frozen on her face.

15

Xenia Campi had been brought to one of the reception rooms off the
salone
and was being calmed by Sister Teresa, who assured everyone there was no need to call the police. Hazel Reeve was in another reception room with Vico, Berenice Pillow, the Contessa, Dora Spaak, and Urbino. Samuele Picardo, a physician from Padua who was one of the Contessa's guests, had revived the girl with Dora Spaak's help and had pronounced her out of any danger. After giving instructions to Dora Spaak, he had gone to see to Xenia Campi.

Hazel was reclining on a high-backed tapestried sofa with a damp cloth over her eyes. The least of the Contessa's worries seemed to be that the old fabric might be stained. She was by the door, having said for the second time that she should return to the
salone
to retrieve what she could of her evening. The prospect mustn't have been pleasing for she didn't look as if she was going anytime soon. She kept staring at Urbino, as if to say, “I told you so, and it's all your fault!”

Vico was standing next to the sofa and Berenice Pillow was in a deep armchair by a carved walnut table displaying a collection of jasper cups. The soft look on her face was evident in the light of the Oriental bronze lamp hanging from the ceiling above her. She kept looking from Vico to Hazel.

Dora Spaak stood by the door, staring at Vico.

“Are you all right, Hazel darling?” Vico chafed the girl's hand. She reached up to remove the piece of cloth but Vico told her to leave it. “Just rest. You've been through so much. We won't wait to get married. We'll get married as soon as we can, right here in Venice. Wouldn't that be nice?”

Hazel shook her head so violently that the cloth almost fell off.

“No, never here. Never!”

“Of course not, Hazel. What was I thinking? But why don't we marry here in Italy, down in Naples? How long would we have to wait until we are able to marry, Mother?”

Berenice Pillow didn't say anything for a few moments.

“I don't know, Tony,” she finally said in a quiet voice. “I married your father a long time ago. I've forgotten. I'm sure Barbara knows.”

She looked over at the Contessa.

“I'm afraid I don't know for sure either, Berenice dear, but I don't think you have to wait a long time, not if you have all your documents. It used to be harder to get married here, and in those days you couldn't even get divorced.”

The Contessa seemed to ponder this as if she wanted to draw a conclusion from it all but just shrugged her shoulders. She looked weary.

“And, Mother, I'd like you to help Hazel with all the plans. She has no mother. She'd appreciate it, wouldn't you, Hazel?”

The reclining girl gave no indication. She seemed to be waiting for Vico to go on—or waiting for Mrs. Pillow's response.

Berenice Pillow was breathing heavily. She saw Urbino looking at her and stared back at him almost defiantly. When she turned her eyes away to look at the jasper cups, he was sure that the defiance was still there. She picked up one of the cups and ran a finger over its lip.

Dora Spaak was still staring at Tonio Vico. Urbino remembered how Xenia Campi had said that the ghost of death—of murder—could be seen in this young woman's eyes.

“You recognize him, Miss Spaak, don't you?” Urbino said.

Dora Spaak's eyes flew from Tonio Vico to Urbino.

“He—he's the man in the newspaper you had.”

“But you saw him somewhere else, didn't you?”

Dora was speechless. Everyone stared at her—everyone except Hazel, who was still lying on the sofa with the cloth over her eyes. She seemed to be holding her breath as she waited for Dora Spaak to answer.

“You did tell me yesterday morning that you saw Mr. Vico in the Campo San Gabriele talking to Val Gibbon, didn't you?”

Vico jumped to his feet.

“What's this? Talking to Gibbon? Where's the Campo San Gabriele?”

“It's where the Casa Crispina is,” his stepmother said quietly, “the pensione where Mr. Gibbon was staying. Mr. Macintyre asked me if you had been there but I told him I wouldn't know.”

“I certainly wasn't! I never saw Gibbon here in Venice. I didn't even know he was here until he was dead.”

Hazel put her hand up to the cloth as if she was going to remove it but didn't.

“Well, Miss Spaak,” Urbino said, “he is the same man, isn't he? The one you saw arguing with Val Gibbon.”

For a moment Urbino thought that Dora Spaak was going to brazen it out. She opened her round little mouth to say something but nothing came out. She made her way to the nearest chair and sat down in it slowly. Fear gripped her face as she looked at Urbino.

“I—I must have been mistaken,” she said in a quiet voice. “It must have been someone else.”

“You seemed so sure yesterday morning, Miss Spaak. But of course you were upset over your mother being taken ill. So you never saw Mr. Vico in the Campo San Gabriele talking to Val Gibbon?”

She shook her head.

“What about in the Calle Santa Scolastica? Could it have been there that you saw someone who looked very much like Mr. Vico?”

She put her face in her hands and started to cry.

“Oh, poor Nicky, what's going to happen to him? I wanted to be so careful! I knew I had to watch everything I said! Poor, poor Nicky!”

“Don't worry about your brother, Miss Spaak.”

“What is going on, Urbino?” the Contessa said.

“I'm trying to settle some very important points, Barbara. You see, Miss Spaak didn't stay in the night of the murder, did you, Miss Spaak? You thought your mother was asleep when you came in and borrowed her scissors and her mask to follow Gibbon, but she was awake—and she was awake when you brought them back about midnight. She was only pretending to be asleep, as she frequently does, so that you wouldn't worry about her. You followed Gibbon to the Calle Santa Scolastica. Tell us about the mask, Miss Spaak—the portrait mask that looked like Tonio.”

“A mask that looked like me? What are you talking about?”