6 - Whispers of Vivaldi Read Online Free PDF

courtiers. And how long would a duke live in a hut before he grew sick and tired of dirt and smoke and turnips for dinner? Tell me, is this poetic composer a very young man?”
    “In his twenties, I believe.” Believe? I was merely guessing. In truth, I knew very little of Rocatti beyond what his music told me.
    “It would take a man without much experience of the world to come up with such silliness. If a thing isn’t rational, you see, it can’t exist. Therefore, it’s nonsense.” Passoni reached for the book he’d abandoned on my arrival and held it up like a priest displaying Holy Writ. “To keep my wits sharp, I read the learned philosophers and contemplate their tenets. I’m not worried that anyone would take this opera’s politics seriously. My concern is whether this particular nonsense will fill the theater’s boxes and benches.”
    He sent me a pointed look. “That’s where the rub is, eh Tito? The box office.”
    “I believe its profits will surpass every opera of the past few seasons.” There was that “believe” again. My statement was actually more of a desperate hope.
    Passoni leaned forward, elbows on knees, one hand still clutching the leather-bound volume. “I want to help your theater, I truly do. Unlike some, I can’t work up any great enthusiasm for the Teatro Grimani becoming Venice’s flagship opera house.”
    Unlike some. I gulped. So Caprioli’s machinations had come this far, had they?
    Passoni smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. A few Senators are crying for an end to ‘Maestro Rinaldo Torani’s money pit,’ but I’ve convinced the majority that Venice needs the Teatro San Marco. Torani can always be trusted to present operas of the highest dignity and taste—amusements we can rely on to impress our perpetual throng of foreign visitors. The Grimani is another netful of fish. It always seems to have a whiff of the risqué about it. Perhaps it’s those bold young women they use as attendants.…” He trailed off, shook his head and eased back. “More to the point, Torani’s account books always tally. I wouldn’t trust Lorenzo Caprioli an inch in that regard. He’s as slimy as a rotting eel.”
    I nodded slowly. A lot was riding on Rocatti’s opera. On me . I sat tall. “Do we have your permission to proceed with The False Duke , Excellency?”
    “I don’t know.” Passoni shifted in his chair, toyed with his signet ring. “Won’t a change send the company scrambling to be ready?”
    “We can manage it.”
    “Hmm…what special effects does your new opera include?” With a definite sparkle, his gaze darted to the cabinet which held his models. Now I saw not all were ships. There were also intricate models of bridges and windmills. The Savio must be an engineer at heart.
    The Duke , as I’d mentally shortened the title, didn’t have elaborate scenic illusions written into the libretto. But if a few machines were all that stood between Passoni’s yes and no…I thought quickly. “To be sure, Excellency. A fearful windstorm tears through the forest in Act Two.”
    “Thunder and lightning?”
    I nodded enthusiastically.
    “Could we have a shipwreck, too? I’ve always longed to see a galleon capsize down on stage.”
    I froze in mid-nod. The Savio’s suggestion struck me speechless. Had I not just explained that the opera’s setting was a mountainous duchy with rolling forests and castles clinging to steep peaks?
    “Well…perhaps we could work in a flooded stream.”
    Passoni pulled a frown. Shook his head.
    “But Excellency, the sea is miles away. The libretto has nothing to do with ships.”
    He pondered a moment, fingering his chin, then said brightly, “I have the perfect thing. The hero and his lady could sail away to the New World and crash on the rocky coast of—what do the English call that place?—Virginia? Yes, Virginia. That would make a magnificent finale, don’t you think?”
    “I…don’t know.” I wanted to shriek. A stunt like