Free A Venetian Affair by Andrea Di Robilant Page A

about you? . . . My mother has been ill for many days, and
we could have been seeing each other with fewer precautions. But
no—Memmo is having fun elsewhere. He does not even think
about Giustiniana except when a compelling urge forces him to.
What must I think? I hear from all sides about your new games
and your oh-so-beloved old friendships.
    Naturally, Andrea pleaded complete innocence: “For heaven’s sake, don’t be so mean. What rendezvous are you talking about? What have I done to merit such scorn? My dear sweet one, you must quiet down. Trust me or else you’ll kill me.” He explained, rather obliquely, that tactical considerations and nothing else occasionally forced him to be silent for a few days or to interrupt the flow of letters. But she should never forget that if he sometimes made himself scarce, it was for
her
sake and certainly not because he was chasing young ladies around: “You know I love you, and for that very reason, instead of complaining about your perpetual diffidence, I only worry about your position. I would have written to you every day to tell you what I was up to, but you know how afraid I am about writing to you—your mother is capable of all sorts of beastliness. All I care about is making sure the members of your household and our enemies and the crowd of people that follow every step we take do not discover our relationship by some act of imprudence on our part.”
    Giustiniana was not reassured by Andrea’s words. In fact, his shifty attitude was making her more upset and more defiant:
    How could you swear to me that all you cared about was my
position, when in fact you were merely trying to get away from
me using prudence as a pretext to rush over to see N. 6 ? Don’t be so
sure of the power you have over me, for I shall break this bond of
ours. I have opened my eyes at last. My God! Who is this man to
whom I have given my deepest love! Leave me, please leave me
alone. I’m just a nuisance to you. Before long you will hate me.
You villain! Why did you betray me? . . . Everyone now speaks
of your friendship with N. At first you explained yourself, and so
I was at peace again and I even allowed you to be seen with her in
public . . . and after our reconciliation you rushed off to see her
again. What greater proof of your infidelity? Damn you! I am so angry I cannot even begin to say all I want. . . . Don’t even
come near me, I don’t want to see you. . . . Now I see why you told
me to pretend that our friendship was over; now I plainly see how
fake your sincerity was, your infamous caution. . . . Now I know
you. Did you think you could make fun of me forever? Enough. I
cease to be your plaything.
    Were the rumors true? Was Andrea pursuing N., or was Giustiniana working herself into a spiral of groundless jealousy? Whatever was going on, Andrea had clearly underestimated the depth of Giustiniana’s desperation. He suddenly found himself on the defensive, struggling to contain her rage: “How can I describe to you the state I am in, you cruel woman? My mind is busy with a thousand thoughts. I’m agitated and worried about a thousand questions. And you, for heaven’s sake, find nothing better to do than to treat me in the most inhuman way. Where does it all come from? What have I done to deserve all this? . . . Can it be that you still don’t know my heart? . . . Come here, my sweet Giustiniana, speak freely to your Memmo.”
    Andrea understood more plainly now that as long as Giustiniana felt locked into a relationship with no future she would only become more anguished and more intractable and their life would become hell. But he remained ambivalent: “Tell me if you want to get yourself out of this situation you’re in. Tell me the various possibilities, and however much they might be harmful to me, if they will make you happy. . . . Speak out, and you will see how I love you.” Was he conjuring up the idea of an elopement? Was he beginning to consider a secret