Free 078 The Phantom Of Venice by Carolyn Keene Page B

must have been rich!”
    Viewed from the water, it looked as light and airy as a dream, with three stories of delicate columns and lacy arches. The girls entered on the land side, through a courtyard with a pink marble wellhead, and ascended a flight of stone stairs to the interior.
    The palace was now a museum, filled with paintings and sculpture. As they wandered about, the two friends separated, each following her own interests. Tara became absorbed in a collection of doll-sized, bronze statuettes.
    Nancy was looking for a picture by Titian, mentioned in the guidebook. Her interest in this artist’swork had first been mere curiosity, prompted by hearing her own red-gold hair described as “titian.” But the more of his paintings she saw, the more she had come to admire his vivid use of color, which had revolutionized the art of the High Renaissance.
    The particular work of Titian in the Ca d’Oro was a voluptuous painting of Venus decked with pearls. How magnificent! What artistry! Nancy marveled. For that matter, what a woman! she mentally added, with an admiring twinkle.
    “Her hair is almost as beautiful as yours, eh?” said a masculine voice behind her.
    Nancy turned coldly, vexed at the way the spell had been broken, and even more vexed by the fact that the speaker was Gianni Spinelli.
    “What are you doing here?” she snapped.
    “The same thing you are doing, cara —worshiping beauty.”
    “Please! Spare me your corny line!” Nancy retorted, tight-lipped. “You’ve been seeing too many movies.”
    “Movie stars no longer turn me on,” Gianni said softly, “now that I have seen you . . . !”
    Nancy felt angry and helpless, all the more so since she couldn’t help thinking how handsome he looked with his curly dark hair, finely chiseled features and muscular grace.
    Gianni seemed to sense what was going through her mind. He smiled confidently and took a step toward her.
    He must have followed us here, Nancy realized, and just waited for a chance like this!
    The thought of being spied on by someone like Gianni filled her with distaste. And what if Tara should walk into the room and find them together, especially after her jealous outburst the night before!
    “Please go away,” she said aloud.
    Instead he came a step closer. She could smell his masculine scent and the fragrance of his after-shave cologne. A panicky feeling of weakness assailed her.
    Suddenly he seized her in his arms and kissed her! For a moment Nancy was too shocked to resist—and perhaps part of her responded to the warmth of his lips on hers.
    Then fury and sheer indignation took over. She broke free of his embrace and slapped him hard. Her sapphire eyes were blazing.
    “Leave me alone,” she warned between her teeth, “or I’ll call a guard!”
    Gianni’s face went as white as her own, except for the reddish imprint of her hand on his cheek. “So, you are in love with that American grullo from the glass factory!” he muttered in a voice thick with rage.
    Then he turned abruptly and walked out of the room. Nancy was trembling.
    Luckily she had recovered her poise by the time Tara rejoined her. But the encounter with Gianni had spoiled her pleasure in their tour of the House of Gold.
    Tara was eager to window-shop, so after leaving the Ca d’Oro the girls caught a water bus to the Rialto. This famous covered bridge over the Grand Canal was lined with a double arcade of shops. Goods of all kinds were on display—jewelry, fabrics, glassware, shoes, lingerie, linens—every possible item, it seemed, to tempt the buyer. Tara was unable to pass up a gaily embroidered peasant blouse. Nancy bought a sleek pair of leather gloves for Hannah and an elegant silk tie for her father.
    As they made their way down the marble steps on the eastern side of the bridge, Nancy felt a slight tug on her shoulder bag. She glanced around quickly, but in the swarming crowd, it was impossible to tell who might have snatched at it in passing, or