Anna Maria's Gift (6 page)

“Excellency, may I present Anna Maria Lombardini, daughter of the great violin maker. And her chaperone, Sister Lidia.”

Anna Maria watched Sister Lidia and curtsied when she did.

The count dipped his head in a bow. “So you are Annina.”

“Sì
, Excellency,” Anna Maria said. Then she clamped her lips together.

A brief smile crossed his face. But it faded as he turned to Maestro Vivaldi. “Of course I had no idea the violin had been stolen. I paid many gold coins for it as a gift to my daughter. Even now she is having a lesson.”

He spoke to the old servant. “Please ask Donata to come and bring her violin.”

They waited in silence until Donata entered. She was a thin, dark-haired girl—her
father’s image. She held the golden instrument in her arms.

“My violin!” Anna Maria took a step toward her.

Donata fled from the room.

Anna Maria clasped her hand over her mouth. Had she ruined everything?

“I apologize for my daughter’s rude manners,” the count said. “She is quite fond of the violin.”

“And I apologize for Anna Maria,” said Sister Lidia. “She, too, is quite fond of the violin.”

Anna Maria wanted to hug Auntie for that.

“No doubt,” said the count. “But I am sure you understand that my daughter comes first. I will not ask her to give up the violin.”

Anna Maria stared at Count Contarini, at his thin face and his hard black eyes. This
man stood between her and Papa’s violin. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She put her face in her hands.

She could not let this happen. In that moment she heard Papa’s voice in her head.
Annina, play for me
. A bold idea came to her. Maestro Vivaldi could do the talking. But she could do the playing.

She looked up at the count, blinking away her tears. “Excellency, may I play the violin one last time?”

He smiled.
“Sì
, of course.” He spoke to the old servant again. “Tell Donata that Anna Maria wishes to play the violin one last time.”

Donata returned and handed the violin to her father. She stood watching as he gave it to Anna Maria.

The violin felt warm and alive in her hands. She tucked it under her chin and tuned.

“What will you play for us?” the count asked.

“The piece my father asked me to play when he lay on his deathbed,” Anna Maria said.

There was a stunned silence.

Anna Maria raised the bow, closed her eyes, and drew in a breath.

Dum dee-dee dum …
, she played. Her heart seemed to grow and fill her chest.
An-ni-na, An-ni-na
, the violin sang to her. She wanted to go on playing and never stop.

At the end Anna Maria let her bow arm drop to her side. She saw that Count Contarini’s eyes shone with tears.

He said, “Don Vivaldi, that is beautiful. With respect, you should keep to composing music rather than speeches.”

A smile spread across the maestro’s face. “Not all nobles really listen to music as you
do, Excellency. If they did, I would not have to make speeches.”

The count nodded. Then to Anna Maria he said, “I am deeply moved by your playing,
signorina
. You and the violin seem as one.” He turned to his daughter.

Her face twisted with the struggle going on inside her head. At last she spoke to Anna Maria. “My father gave me this violin one night at dinner. Afterward I went out on the balcony and played it by moonlight.”

“I heard you!” said Anna Maria. “From my window in the Pietà.”

“I loved the violin,” Donata went on. “But it felt restless in my hands. As I played, I knew that its spirit belonged to Annina. Wherever she might be.”

Donata paused and looked at the count.

“May I, Father?”

He nodded.

“And so, my father and I agree that the violin is yours to keep,” Donata said. “You belong together.”

Anna Maria opened her mouth, but no words came out. She ran to Donata and hugged her.

Then Anna Maria stepped back. “Count Contarini, how can I ever repay you?”

He smiled. “You just did,
signorina.”

O
n the way home, Francesco said, “And what of Paolina? Shall we toss her in the canal?”

Anna Maria burst out laughing.

“Signorina
, do you remember what I told you when you first arrived here?”

“Sì
, no one can be sad in Venice. At least not for long.”

Francesco nodded. “I think Paolina must be sad for what she did.”

“Truly?” said Anna Maria.

“Sì
. And I think you are the only person who can make her happy,” he went on.

Now that she had her violin back, Anna Maria wanted everyone to be happy. “How, Signor Francesco?”

“I can’t tell you how,
signorina.”

“Francesco, you should have been a priest,” said the maestro.

“Oh no, Don Vivaldi. They would have unfrocked me by now. Besides, I prefer the open air.” And with that Francesco began to sing.

A woman standing on a balcony sang with him.

“Ah, Venice,” said Maestro Vivaldi. He glanced at Sister Lidia, who blushed.

That evening at vespers Anna Maria escaped to the courtyard with her violin. The plum trees were in white flower. She inhaled
their perfume. Then she closed her eyes and began to play. Her spirit soared with Papa’s voice.

When Anna Maria opened her eyes, she saw Paolina peeking out from behind a column. Quickly she disappeared.

“Paolina, is that you?” Anna Maria called in a loud whisper.

Paolina stepped out from behind the column and walked toward Anna Maria. She looked thinner, and her stringy hair was tangled.

She stopped a few feet away. “Is that your violin?”

“Sì,”
said Anna Maria. She told Paolina everything that had happened.

“It is a miracle,” Paolina said. She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know how I could do such a thing. You must hate me.”

“Not anymore,” said Anna Maria.

Paolina looked up. “Why? Because you have your violin back?”

“Sì
, but also because of what my friend the gondolier said. He thinks you are sad for what you did.”

Paolina stared at the paving stones and nodded. “Your friend is right. I am sad … and sorry, too.”

“Then I will sing you a song he taught me. It made me laugh, even when I was sad about my father.”

Anna Maria took up her violin. “It goes like this.”

Paolina laughed, but her eyes were still sad.

“You must miss violin class,” said Anna Maria.

“Sì
, Maestro Vivaldi was like a father to
me.” Paolina sighed. “If only I could be back in his class.”

“Why don’t we ask him?” Anna Maria said. “He’s probably still here.”

“But I’m not allowed upstairs,” Paolina said.

“I won’t tell. We can sneak up there while everyone is at vespers.” Anna Maria put her violin back in its case.

Then the two girls hurried along the gallery to the stairway door. All was quiet. They ran up the stairs to the music room.

Anna Maria stepped inside with Paolina right behind her. The maestro did not see or hear them. He set his violin down on the table and began to write.

The girls stood frozen by the door. At last he laid the quill pen aside and sat back. It was then that the maestro saw them.

“Do my eyes play tricks on me?” he said.

“I am sorry to interrupt you, Maestro,” said Anna Maria.

“Dear girl, no one can do that. But tell me, is it possible that you two have made peace?” he asked.

“Sì
, Maestro,” said Anna Maria. “And we have come to ask you a favor.”

“What might that be?”

Anna Maria glanced at Paolina, then back at Maestro Vivaldi. “Paolina is truly sad for what she did.”

“I am glad to hear it,” he said.

Anna Maria took courage. “Would you let her return to violin class, Maestro?”

He studied Paolina for a time.

She looked down. “I am ashamed, Maestro Vivaldi.”

“Very good. I will see what I can do.” He stood, put away his violin, and gathered up his papers. “In two weeks we shall perform
my Concerto in G Minor. It is for two violins and cello. Silvia will play the cello part. And I think I know the two violinists.”

Anna Maria gasped. Her first concert, and the maestro wanted her to play a solo!

“You can do it—both of you—but it will be hard work. I shall hand out the music tomorrow.” He nodded and walked out the door.

T
he girls of the orchestra filed into the chapel balcony. Anna Maria could see that every seat in the audience was taken. In the front row sat the doge in his robe and pointed hat. Senators sat on either side of him. Count Contarini, the countess, and Donata were just behind. Toward the back she saw Francesco.

Anna Maria put her hand over her racing heart and whispered to Paolina, “I’m so nervous.”

“So am I, but take deep breaths,” Paolina said.

Silvia leaned close. “Think only of the music.”

Maestro Vivaldi strode in and took his place. He raised his hands and looked at each of the soloists. Then he started the beat. On her cello Silvia began the deep, slow bowing.
Dum—dum—dum—dum
. Soon the violin section joined in. The four beats went on, rising and falling again.