本篇开头小虐
女主视角×2
刚发现写到现在我都是在虐尼尼，什么时候改一下虐红毛（诶？）
The next night.
`I find that story intriguing, please tell me more.'
`Of course I will.' I gazed at Tomaso gracefully, and ran my fingers down his hair again. This time he laid his head upon my chest, and untied my hair and brushed through it.
`I shall begin.'
`Hmm.'
We met constantly at Signor Legrenzi's place, usually during my lessons, and he would wait until they were over and we would take a stroll by the Great Canal. He told me that he started going to the shops early so that we could spend more time together, and we would chat about music when we were walking. He would sometimes give me constructive feedback on my playing and I would criticise his techniques, something we did for a long time until we have covered almost everything, and we would both keep our silence until I told him I had to go home.
That has changed during the Autumn of 1687, when I broke the silence:
`Why do you never wear a wig?'
`I think there is no point in wearing one. My real hair is really nice, and I don't want to shave my head bald just to put on a wig that obviously looks ridiculous and extravagant on me.'
`Ahh okay.'
Awkward silence...
`I like this red justacorps you're wearing right now.'
`You do?' He asked me. Tomaso was wearing the same clothes with when I first met him, except for he was wearing a red low-collared justacorps with a gold lining on the sleeves and the collar. The gold linings made him look more elegant, and aristocratic, despite the justacorps was made out of plain red silk.
`I think it makes you look more graceful. Also red is a passionate colour and it fits your character.'
`Hmm interesting. I prefer blue as I think of myself as a quiet character, but I guess red looks nice on me if you say so.'
`Aha. What kind of clothes do you think fit me?'
`That's a good question. I think maybe this justacorps will do, else I might say plain black.'
`Black? Like what signor Legrenzi wears everyday?'
`Hmm yeah. I don't like things that are too colourful, also I think black makes you look more elegant.'
`I haven't tried black, though. I will one day.'
And I went home.
Time passed until December 1688, when I went to my violin lessons again. I heard voices of people singing. There were the sweet voices of a soprano and a countertenor singing a duet from Niobe, regina di Tebe by Agostino Steffani, a bittersweet and mellow tune. I looked in the room, and I saw signor Legrenzi playing the theorbo and singing at the same time, and Tomaso, dressed in the same clothes as I told him that I liked, singing the soprano part. I gazed at the two men with amazement, never knowing that they knew how to sing. What was more surprising was that Tomaso's voice was so sweet and natural, almost like that of a young boy, unlike the other countertenors which sounded like their voices were always breaking and unstable. I tried to not to disturb the two of them, even though they still noticed me when I opened the door and sat on the bench outside. Tomaso came out of the room, and sang the first part again, looking at me with sorrowful eyes that seemed like if he blinked the tears would flow out at any moment. When the aria finished he turned back and sat on the harpsichord stool and laid his head upon the harpsichord, and signor Legrenzi went to comfort him.
I went inside the room, and asked what was the matter. Signor Legrenzi told me that Tomaso was going to Rome for university, and won't be coming back for 3-4 years.
`Rome? When?'
`Today, I've come to say farewell.' He got up from the harpsichord and wiped his face with a handkerchief.
`What? No you can't leave me!' I ran towards him and clung on to him.
`I don't want to either, but it's mandatory.' He turned towards me and brushed my hair. `Behave well when I'm not here.'
`I am always well behaved.' I forced out a smile.
`Good. I'll have to leave now. My luggage are all on the coach outside.'
`I'll walk outside with you.'
I saw the coach outside, the chauffeur was asking for him to hurry up so they can depart in time. I asked him to wait, while we could chat for the last time before he comes back again.
`How do we get to talk if we can't meet anymore.' He asked.
`You could write letters.'
`I don't have your address.'
`Write a letter to mine when you reach Rome.' Signor Legrenzi responded.
`Alright, thanks signor.' We answered at the same time, then looked at each other, blushing.
`I'll give you two some individual time, you can have a conversation between yourselves.' Signor Legrenzi went indoors.
`Toni, before I leave I want to give you something.' He handed me a sachet, with two ducks sewn on the green silk. I felt the sachet, it was smoothly embroided, must be really expensive. I sniffed the sachet, and there was a faint aroma of herbs.
`Forget-me-not?'
`Yup. Never forget me.'
`Of course, and these birds?'
`It's a pair of Mandarin ducks. They symbolise pure romance.'
`Wow, I never knew this before. Where did you get this?'
`Remember that my father is a paper merchant right, he bought this from the Arabs while buying paper and gave it to me. I'm pretty sure this sachet came from China. He told me to give it to someone I really like as a friend.'
`Aww, this is so sweet of you. I will keep it forever.'
`Thanks.' He couldn't control his emotions anymore and bursted into tears. We hugged each other until the chauffeur urged him to hurry up, else they wouldn't reach Rome in time. By then, he had finally let go of me and took hesitant steps towards the coach. I wiped my tears, and shouted out that I will always wait for him to come back, and we'll never forget each other. I ran towards the coach, trying to catch up with it, until I started panting and my asthma attacks came by. It started to rain, and I looked hopelessly at the coach, which was by then only a dot in the distance. I stood in the rain, which later became a storm until signor Legrenzi found me and took me back to his place.
`Aww that's such a sad story, but they continued writing letters to each other right?'
`Yes, until signor Legrenzi's death. I had written a note to inform him to come for his funeral, which he replied that he will come. But he didn't. He didn't even come back to Venice after signor's death. I had tried writing letters to him but the post office refused to send any of my letters out. So we lost all connection.'
`That's sad...'
`Yeah, but I met him again, 4 years later.'
It was the carnival season of 1694 when a new opera went on premiere at Teatro Santi Giovanni e Paolo. It was Zenobia, Regina de' Palmireni, with its libretto by Antonio Marchi, a librettist notorious for writing libretti that did not reflect any emotions from the characters. The music was by a young, unknown composer, or dilettante, who has never published any music before this opera-Tomaso Albinoni.
I had heard about the premiere of this opera, because my father was playing as first violin in the guild of the theatre, and he would practise his parts everyday at home. I begged for him to take me to the premiere, to which he refused, first because of my ill-health and second, I was under training for priesthood by then, and it would be inappropriate for me to watch an opera during carnival, even though the clergy never knew about it, because I stayed at home during my training.
I decided the night before the premiere that I would sneak in the operahouse by pretending to be a gentleman's escort, so I could watch Tomaso's opera without buying a ticket (haha I must have thought I was so smart). So on the night of the premiere, I put on my best clothes after father had left for the theatre, and sneaked out of the house before my siblings could notice. I told mother to keep it a secret, to which she agreed. Before I left, I took the sachet which I have kept in my locker and slid it in my pocket. The sachet still had a faint fragrance, because I would replace the forget-me-nots when they have lost their scent.
By 7pm I had reached the front gate of the theatre. To my surprise there weren't a lot of people there (maybe they have entered the venue early, since it was only half an hour till the opera commenced), and it would be too obvious for me to fake. I walked towards a gentleman who was by the ticketman, and was almost successful in trying to sneak in before he noticed and stopped me from entering.
`Do you have a ticket?'
`Umm... I guess I-'
`I am asking you a yes or no question, there is no need for hesitating or twitching around, do you have one?'
The ticketman scared me with his stern look, and I only stared at him, thinking about what to make up.
`So you were trying to sneak in?'
`No signor, I-'
`You lads are always trying to get inside, that's why the theatre cannot earn any money!' He shouted at me, the held my wrist and pulled me away. His grip was so tight that I started screaming, and tried my best to escape, but in vain.
Just before I thought he was going to throw me into the canal or hang me up by a post or something else that is hideous, I heard a call behind me.
`Leave the young man alone.'
Both me and the ticketman looked in the direction of the call, trying to see who it was. I saw a tall, slim, black figure walking briskly towards us, and as he got close, I saw what he was dressed like. The figure was wearing a bauta mask, a long, black cloak that reached down to his ankles and plain black high heels. I found his hairstyle weird, because it looked massive for his head, and then I figured out that it was a brown wig. If I saw him at night, I would have imagined that he were death approaching me if he were holding a scythe.
`Who are you, signor?' Asked the ticketman.
The figure did not speak, but raised his left arm out from his cloak. On his index finger, he was wearing a sapphire ring, and he showed this to the ticketman.
`You are a member of the Fabris family?'
The figure nodded.
`Please tell me your name.'
`Giovanni. This young man is my escort.'
`Alright, your lounge is on the 3rd floor, I guess both of you may enter.' The ticketman had finally let go of me.
`Come.'
I looked up at the figure, who reached out his arm towards me. I held his hand, and both of us went inside the operahouse.
For some reasons this figure seemed familiar, his voice, his physique, and even his posture. But, no. It couldn't have been Tomaso, he would never wear a wig.
The figure took off his cloak when we reached our lounge. He was wearing a plain red, high-collared justacorps made out of velvet which he has buttoned up from top to bottom, a cravat still with no ribbon and white stockings made out of wool. I couldn't figure out what he was wearing on the inside, but it seemed like he was wearing caramel breeches made out of silk and a cotton shirt. By then I have just realised that he wasn't wearing gloves, instead he was holding a cloisonné hand warmer with mandarin ducks carved out on there and a slipcover made out of blue silk with more mandarin ducks and a red lotus embroided on it. There were fur linings on the outside, and the fillings of the cover was made out of cotton. I took out my sachet, and examined carefully at both items, and found out that the mandarin ducks were identical on both of them.
`Is this from China?' I pointed at the hand warmer.
The figure still just nodded. We sat on our chairs and he began to take his mask off. I was staring at him with no purpose when I saw a strand of blonde hair under his wig. I started to examine his hairstyle carefully, and noticed that he had tied his real hair into two buns, but the bun on the right side had become loose, thus it looked like a pigtail.
I was shocked when he took his mask off. His face was even more familiar, no, I would call it identical, but he seemed like he has sold his soul, because he never smiled at me.
I began to think that maybe this is a gentleman who looked identical to Tomaso and was willing to help me sneak in the operahouse. My daydreaming has been interrupted when the first note of the sinfonia commenced.
`A sinfonia that begins with all unison?' I gasped in surprise.
`Is there a problem with that?' The figure asked coldly, raising his eyebrow, but refused to even look in my direction.
`Nope I suppose, this makes me feel excited, I like the opening.' I spoke the truth, even though it seemed like my gasp has vexed the figure and I was trying to please him.
He ignored me, and immediately put on a poker face after I finished speaking.
The first movement of the sinfonia finished, but the harpsichordist decided to play a cadenza inbetween the first and second movements, transferring the music smoothly from D major to B minor.
The figure laid his hand warmer on the coffee table by his chair, and supported his head with both hands. He was staring at the musicians. I peeked at his direction and turned back. His sight looked like that of an eagle, as if he were raising a judgement on the musicians on Doomsday. He squinted his eyes at the harpsichordist, and took a glance at everyone who played in the orchestra.
The noise made by the audience has caught our attention, and the figure stared at them, as if he would send them to hell any moment for interrupting the sinfonia. I looked down into the pit, and realised that the position I was in was prone to being discovered by my father, thus I tiptoed behind my chair.
`What's wrong?' He asked, still with a stern face and did not turn in my direction.
`My father's playing down at the pit, I'm not allowed to come here and I don't want to get discovered.'
`Never knew signor Vivaldi would ban his son from watching operas.' He handed me his mask and cloak. `The cloak will keep you warm, you're only wearing a vest outside your shirt.'
`Thank you so much, signor.' I put on the mask and wrapped myself in his cloak. Even though the outer phase was made out of brocade, the inner phase was made from black fur and the fillings inbetween were so cosy I could have fallen asleep in it.
`Pleasure.' He smiled, but only for a millisecond before quickly returning to a poker face and continued to judge the musicians and singers throughout the opera.
Intermission quickly came by and he told me to wait in his lounge while he went to get some snacks for us. I was starving by then, because I spent such a long time preparing for the escape I didn't even have dinner. I was craving for some food when he returned, with two cups of hot chocolate, a dish of marshmallows and a bowl of pretzels. We shared the pretzels, and took a sip of our drink.
`Put the marshmallows in the hot chocolate, it tastes even better.'
`Ah alright, thanks.' I added two marshmallows in the hot chocolate and waited for it to melt. It indeed had a different taste from before.
I tried to start a conversation with him, but didn't know what to talk about, because he seemed both familiar and distant. By the end of the intermission the hot chocolate and his cloak have made me really sleepy, and I took a snooze that soon turned into a deep slumber.
By the time I woke up the chorus had begun, and I realised that I had slept throughout the entire second half of the opera. I sat up from my chair, noticing that the figure was gazing at me with a tender look. He soon turned back to his poker face and started judging the singers again, almost immediately after I sat up. I took a bite of the last pretzel left in the bowl, and a few marshmallows. I had started thinking about that tender look, which was definitely identical to Tomaso. But this figure, both his actions and facial expressions were completely the opposite of him. If this were Tomaso, then why is he not smiling anymore. He used to be so bright with everyone, but now he just sits in the corner himself and looks at everyone, without a word coming out from his mouth. If this weren't Tomaso, then why would his looks, his physique and even his voice be so identical? I was trying to figure out why this is happening when there was an uproar from the audience, the opera had finished.
The singers were bowing simultaneously onstage while the audience cheered and shouted out bravo at them and the orchestra. The figure then laid back on his chair, and let out a long sigh. He then smirked and clapped along the audience, he wasn't cheering or screaming anything out though.
We left the venue at 10pm, and I returned the mask and cloak to him.
`Keep the cloak on for now, I can still keep warm with my hand warmer and justacorps.'
`But the cloak is...'
`Just keep it. I care about your health.' He ordered coldly.
I didn't know what to say, as he sounded really demanding, but it was for my health. The cloak was a bit long for me, because I was shorter than him, and also I wasn't wearing high heels, so I kept on stumbling over it until I decided to hold the entire thing above the ground. But the back was still dragging on the floor.
The figure asked for me to hold his hand warmer while he was to put his mask on. I looked at his hair carefully, and noticed by this time that both of the buns had come loose by now, and the hair was really tied up as pigtails. I tried to not chuckle, but I was tempted to touch his hair, it seemed so soft, I reached out for his hair when he was tying up the ribbons behind his head. I was one millimetre to success, when he noticed my actions and grabbed onto my wrist.
`What are you doing?'
`Your hair had come loose, I was just trying to help fixing them...' I sounded weak, because he grabbed on to the same wrist that the ticketman grabbed on to, and that was too much pain for me.
`Sorry, my mistake.' He said.
I crouched down, rubbing my wrist as I thought it has been injured. I was in great pain by then and was on the brink of crying when the figure crouched down infront of me.
`Sorry that I've made your wrist hurt.'
`It's alright.'
`How is it alright if it might hurt when you shift upwards on your violin?'
I wanted to ask how did he know that I played the violin, when I realised that I had toured Venice as a young virtuoso, and I was famous as a violinist.
`Come, I have some medicine at my house, I can put some on for you.' He tilted his head, reached out his arm and waited for me to agree.
I held his hand, and followed him. We walked along the canal until I heard someone calling me from behind. I turned my head, and I saw my father.
`Antonio!' He started running towards the two of us, and I knew that I was in trouble because of escaping from my home and sneaking in to the operahouse. Before I thought I would get whipped to death my father grabbed the figure by his shoulder and punched him in the face. The figure fell to the ground, his mask broken and his wig had dropped, his real hair shining under the moonlight. Before he could get up again father kicked him in the stomach, I tried stopping him, but in vain. I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer silently, hoping that father's heels wouldn't have stabbed him to death, only noticing that he was wearing low-heeled shoes. I reached out for the figure, and hugged him so that my back was turned to my father, protecting him from anymore violence.
`Let me have a look at who has kidnapped my son.'
`Kidnap?' The figure asked.
`Stop pretending that you don't know anything. You held on to my son's hand and was walking the direction opposite from where I live, do you want to force him to become your servant?'
`Why do you think I would kidnap a child if I am already wearing such expensive garments?'
`Stop trying to find excuses, I will go to court with you.'
`No father, please don't!' I interrupted, but I got ignored again. My father took the figure's mask off, and his facial expressions turned from being agitated to frightened.
`Signor Albinoni?! Is it you?' He voice was trembling, pissibly because he didn't realise that he had just punched his boss.
`Signor Albinoni...Tomaso! It is you!' I grasped on to his arm excitedly, only noticing that his left cheek was purple, and there was blood dripping by the side of his lips.
`Signor, are you alright?' My father asked carefully.
Tomaso didn't respond to him, he tried getting up from the ground but failed to. That kick on his stomach must have hurt him too much. I helped him several times to get up, which all ended with him kneeling on the ground. My father was stunned until I called out to him for help. We finally made him stand up, and he had to prop himself against the gondola poles to not fall over.
`I guess you'll need a cane, signor, here you go.'
`Yes.' His answer was soft, possibly because of the pain.
`Father, if you don't mind I can help him back to his place.'
`That will be a great idea. It's quite late though.'
`I'll come back tomorrow.'
`Huh? I don't find it safe...'
`He'll be fine with me.' Tomaso interrupted.
`Umm, alright then I guess...Antonio when you come back tomorrow you have to tell me everything.' Father ordered and pointed at me.
`Alright...'
We walked in opposite directions. I supported Tomaso by his right side while he rubbed his stomach with his left hand and limped all the way back home.
`Does it hurt by a lot?'
He only nodded to my question.
Just some moments ago I was feeling sorry for my wrist, and now, I feel sorry for him even more. He head was drooping all the time despite he was looking upwards, and he would start panting every few steps he had taken. He was sweating by a lot, and by the time we had reached his place he was soaked in sweat.
I knocked on his door, and was surprised to find his father opening the door for us.
`Where have the two of you been? It's past midnight and the servants are all retired now, you expect your old father to stay up until 1 o' clock to wait for you to come back from operahouses, and please don't tell me you went drinking, you're perspiring by a lot and you look dizzy. And you expect a young boy to carry you back from the bars like this!'
`Sir you should let him in, he's in great pain.'
`Huh?'
`Father...' Tomaso raised his head and gazed at the hefty middle-aged man. He tried to speak more, only falling over his father's shoulders as I wasn't supporting him anymore.
`Oh for goodness sake what did you do? Come, quickly. And don't wake your mother up. If she sees this she'll be sad. Antonio come in, it's cold outside and I don't expect you to be on the streets at such a time. You may rest at my house today.'
`Thank you, sir.'
`Master I'm afraid there are no vacant rooms in our house.' The butler reported.
`He can stay with me.' Tomaso whispered.
`Alright he shall then.'
We went upstairs to his room, and the servants quickly cleaned out the couch for me. Tomaso laid back on his bed, with his father wiping his face with a wet towel.
`What happened to you?'
`I stumbled over some rocks on the way back to home.'
`And you banged your face on a rock as well?'
`Yeah, I fell sideways.'
`Sorry but I can't control my laughters.'
`Father...' Now it was Tomaso's turn to be on the brink of crying. It must have felt weird to be laughed at.
`Sir I think it's quite late, we should retire.'
`Ahh yes, come, undress yourself.'
`Umm...wouldn't it be embarrassing if you looked at me? Also the servants don't need to clean out the couch anymore, Toni can share a bed with me.'
`Will that be fine with you, Antonio?' He asked me.
`If it's fine with Tomaso, then I guess it's alright with me.' I responded.
`Good, I'll leave you two alone then.'
The middle-aged man left with the servants, but came back in right after.
`Where's your wig and mask?'
`The mask broke when I fell over and my wig?'
`It flew off.' I added. `I was in a hurry trying to get him back home, so I forgot to pick them up from the ground, sorry sir.'
`That's alright. Just try to remember the next time, well, I hope there's no next time when you can get injured like this.'
`Yes father.'
After the man had left, Tomaso let out a long sigh and started rubbing his stomach. I helped him undress and was hesitant to take off his caramel waistcoat, incase the shirt had big patches of blood on there.
I untied the buttons of his waistcoat, with my hands trembling. Tomaso must have thought that I have been wasting too much time so he decided to unbutton his waistcoat himself. And unlike what I have expected, there was no blood on the shirts, but a shoemark.
`What are you going to do with this?'
`I don't know...I'm going to undress, you mind turning around?'
`I'm going to undress as well, I'll go to the bathroom.'
`My night gowns are in the drawer beside the mirror, there are some that's small for me, I guess you can wear them tonight?'
`Thanks, should I get your night gown as well?'
`If you don't mind.'
I took out two undershirts, a smaller one and a normal one (although both of them seemed rather long to me). Then I went to the bathroom and changed quickly into his nightgown, due to the fact that it was so long I looked like a lady...
Tomaso was curling up on his bed, exhausted and possibly dehydrated from all that sweating. The shoe-marked shirts were spread over the mattress with the back side facing upwards. I moved those clothes and hid them under his bed, and told him that I can wash them for him.
`Thanks.'
`It's fine.' I took out the sachet and placed it on the bedside cabinet. The faint aroma of forget-me-nots really soothed me down, and I was ready to sleep, again.
`You still have the sachet?'
`Yup. I refill it everytime the scent passes away.'
`That's nice of you.'
`Tomaso?'
`Hmm?'
`I'm sorry for what happened today, I shouldn't have sneaked out of my house...and caused trouble for you...I'm really sorry...'
`It's alright, sometimes we can't control these things, and they just happen. I'm glad that I have met you, incase you were actually thrown into the canal by that ticketman. Does your wrist hurt anymore?'
`My wrist doesn't matter compared to your injuries, you should have told sir about everything, then a doctor could come and cure you, you wouldn't be enduring from such agony...'
`But that would cause trouble for your father, right? Trust me, I can recover from it myself.'
`I don't believe that.'
There was silence from him. We gazed at each other hopelessly, until he said that it was almost 1:30 and that we should sleep.
`I'll untie your hair for you.'
`Sure, thanks.'
And we both went to bed.
`That
评论(16)