The Veils of Venice (27 page)

And for the third time Mina said, though her voice sounded tired, ‘I'm all right. Everyone is treating me well. Don't worry.'

‘That is impossible, Mina. You know me well.'

‘And you know me. You know that I do not like to see you upset. And what is the purpose?'

There was wisdom in her words far beyond her much younger years.

It had taken Mina to remind the contessa that she should not appear too anxious, that Mina should not see the extent to which she was struggling because of the poor girl's situation. She knew from other circumstances she had been through in her life – most notably from her husband's long decline – that people who were ill or in distress had an added burden when they saw the pain that their situation caused in the people they loved.

And so the contessa did her best to mask the depth of her concern, even though she knew that she was not really deceiving Mina.

‘How was Olimpia's funeral?' Mina's voice was hardly more than a whisper.

Mina's question gave the contessa a little jolt. Two weeks had passed since the funeral, and during all that time Mina had been on the Giudecca, without even the consoling memory of having been among the mourners.

‘It was simple,' the contessa could honestly say. ‘The way she would have wanted it to be. And you were there in spirit. I could feel it. I have something for you.' The contessa took the photograph out of her purse. She had asked for permission to give it to Mina when she had arrived. The guard in the room with them had been informed, but nonetheless she paid close attention to the contessa's movements.

‘I found it in your room. I could not help but notice it. It was lying on your table,' the contessa said by way of excusing herself for what Mina might think was snooping. ‘I decided to bring it to you. For you to have with you. I thought it might be a comfort to you, but I hope it won't create any problems for you.'

She handed the photograph to Mina. From the way the girl started weeping when she looked at it, the contessa was at first afraid she had made a mistake.

But then Mina whispered in a tear-smothered voice, ‘Thank you so much. It is very thoughtful of you. It was good for you to bring it. There will be no problem.' She kissed the photograph and looked at it in silence for a few moments. Raising her eyes to the contessa, she said in a stronger voice, ‘Signor Lanzani told me that Olimpia left me money and many of her things in her will. She didn't tell me I was in her will. I never had any idea about that.'

‘Of course you didn't. But it shows how much she cared about you.'

‘If I ever get out of here, I won't take anything.'

‘You won't?' The contessa had not been prepared for this.

‘Never. I killed her.'

‘Mina! You mustn't say that.' The contessa looked over at the woman guard, who had an impassive expression on her face. ‘Signor Lanzani must have told you not to say that.'

‘Yes, he did. But I
did
kill her. If I hadn't taken the scissors out' – Mina's voice broke – ‘she might not have died. All – all her blood came rushing out. I made it happen.'

‘Look at me, Mina. Look into my eyes.' The contessa gazed into Mina's troubled brown eyes that were filled with tears ready to be shed again. ‘Olimpia would have died whether you took out the scissors or not. It was in the medical examiner's report.'

The contessa had no idea whether this were true or not, but if ever there was a time for what Urbino called benevolent deception, it was now.

Mina continued to stare at the contessa. She licked her lips. ‘I've decided. I won't keep anything.'

The sound of women's laughter came into the room. It was happy, joyous laughter. It seemed so incongruous, but the contessa supposed that after a while life in the prison must fall into the rhythms of life led outside its walls and even have the semblance of normality. The contessa prayed that Mina would never have to try to make that long-term adjustment. Despite the brave face she was putting on things now, the contessa didn't think Mina would be up to it.

‘Do you need anything, Mina?'

‘Thank you, but I have everything I need. As I said, everyone is very kind to me.' She gave a weak smile. ‘It isn't as bad as you think.'

‘I'm glad to hear that.'

‘How is everyone at the house? And Signor Urbino?'

‘Everyone is fine. They all send their love.'

‘Tell me. How are Olimpia's sister and brother feeling? And her cousins? They must be very sad.'

‘They are doing the best they can.' The contessa had decided not to tell Mina that Apollonia had died. Given the girl's emotional state, she would probably think that Apollonia had died because of grief and shock, and feel guilty for that, too, on top of everything else.

‘I hope they will forgive me.'

‘There is nothing for them to forgive.'

The contessa feared that Mina was about to start proclaiming her guilt again, but when she broke the short silence, she asked, ‘Signorina Gaby is still worried and afraid?'

‘She told Signor Urbino that she had been feeling a premonition of the danger that was surrounding her sister.'

Mina took this in and, being the sensitive, impressionable soul she was, seemed to accept it.

‘And how is Zouzou?'

‘Zouzou is the good little girl she always is – good even in her mischief.' The contessa was happy to move on to this innocuous topic. ‘She misses you.'

But then the contessa wondered if this was the right thing to say. She was so confused. She did not want Mina to feel worse. She was a sentimental girl – but maybe it was the contessa who was the sentimental one. She should not have mentioned Zouzou.

‘Who takes her for her walks?'

‘I'm doing it until you come back.' Once again, the contessa was not telling the truth, but she did not want Mina to feel that Zouzou might be transferring her affections to someone else in the house.

‘I'm sure she enjoys that.' Mina glanced at the guard. The contessa was pleased to see that the stern-faced woman gave Mina a pleasant smile. ‘I must tell you something. It is very important. I must not tell anyone else except you and Signor Urbino. Olimpia made me promise.'

The contessa took a quick breath. ‘What are you talking about, Mina?'

‘A month ago she gave me an envelope. Right before Christmas. She said she wanted me to keep it safe. There is something important inside it, she said. I was supposed to keep it until she asked me for it back. Or if something bad happened to her, I should give it to you or Signor Urbino. I hated when she said that. Her face was very serious. I told her she must not draw bad luck down on her head. And – and now something terrible
has
happened to her, because of that and because of me!'

Mina was about to burst into tears again.

‘Please, Mina, you must not think like that. We must think clearly. About the envelope. Do you know what's inside?'

‘Oh, no! I promised that I would never open it.'

‘Is there a name on the envelope?'

Mina shook her head, tears still in her eyes, waiting to brim over. ‘But it's an old envelope. It's stained with spots.'

‘Where is it now? You must know that the police searched your room.'

‘Signor Lanzani told me. But I didn't put it in my room. That would not be safe, Olimpia said. I am sorry, but she said anyone could come into my room and look at my things, even if it was locked because – because you have the key. Oh, please, don't be upset!' She looked down at the photograph. ‘I know you would never do anything to hurt me! You are too kind!'

‘Of course I wouldn't. And I'm not upset.'

‘I had to keep three promises, you see. Three, like in the fairy tales. I must not open the envelope. I must not keep it in my room. And I must give it to you or Signor Urbino if something happened to her. You see! She said to give it to you. She trusted you! She just did not want anyone to see it unless – unless …' Mina trailed off.

‘You're a faithful girl, Mina. And I am sure Olimpia had her good reasons for asking you to do what you did. But where is the envelope?'

‘In the library. Inside one of the books that are on a high shelf next to the windows. You made Vittoria dust all the books on those shelves the week before. I was outside the library when you told her they were German books.' Mina paused. ‘It's the encyclopedia. I know because the word on the book in German is like the one in Italian.'

‘Why did you put it there?'

Mina looked away. ‘Because I never saw you reading the German books. English books, Italian books, and French books. But never German ones. You told Vittoria they had belonged to the conte, may God rest his soul.'

This was true. All the German books in the library had belonged to Alvise. He had started to learn German after the war when he was helping families of German immigrants who had come to Venice. He had become interested in the language beyond the purpose it served him.

‘I – I did not want you to find the envelope,' Mina went on. ‘Forgive me.'

‘I understand. Do not trouble yourself about it. But Signor Urbino reads German. Sometimes he has borrowed the conte's German books.'

‘I was taking a small chance. But I didn't know where else to hide the envelope and I knew no one would dust the books until spring. I was going to find another place before then. It's not easy to figure out a hiding place.'

‘No, it isn't.'

‘I put the envelope in the last volume. Now that Olimpia is gone, I must keep my promise. You must read it. You and Signor Urbino. Olimpia said the two of you would know what to do.'

The import of the whole thing hit Mina anew. It meant that Olimpia was dead, dead, dead. Her tears fell so thickly and furiously that the guard seemed on the point of getting up. The contessa waited for the storm to run its natural course, making sympathetic sounds and comments. When it was over, the contessa fell into a rambling account about Zouzou, the exhibition, and her visit to the Fortuny factory, which she hoped would be soothing, but it was a strain on her. Mina kept looking at her with large, moist eyes. And the contessa was conflicted, for, although she wanted to be with the girl for all their allotted time, she was also eager to leave and return to the house so that she and Urbino could search for the envelope. It could bring Mina closer to being released. This was what she was desperately hoping.

When they were parting, Mina said, ‘Please be careful when you go out in the cold. You could get sick.'

‘And you take care of yourself, Mina. Signor Urbino and I will continue to do everything we can so that you will soon be out of here. And Olimpia is looking after you, too. You kept your promise to her. I will come back to see you again as soon as I can.'

Thirteen

As soon as the contessa returned home, she telephoned Urbino. Natalia said he had gone out early in the morning and had not returned.

‘I'll tell him to call you as soon as he comes in.'

But this was not good enough for the contessa. She was more impatient than she could ever remember having been.

After she had lunch, which she was not able to finish, she rang the Palazzo Uccello four times in the next hour and a half. She could hear the barely concealed irritation in Natalia's voice when she said, each time, quietly, ‘I'll tell him as soon as he comes in, contessa.'

The contessa did not want to look at the envelope until Urbino was with her. This seemed important, but she was so wrought up that she could not decide why. Surely, she should just get the envelope out of the encyclopedia and read what was inside on her own. She might even save some valuable time, depending on what was in it.

But she didn't, although her steps kept carrying her to the dark-panelled room with its rows and rows of volumes, most of them calf-bound, with gilt lettering on their spines. The rich smell of the leather reminded her of the conte, who had spent many hours every day in the library. She did not even take the volume of the encyclopedia down from the shelf. She positioned the ladder, however, so that when Urbino came they would at least not lose the few moments of time it would take him to do it.

But she found it difficult to keep her eyes away from the large dark green book, concentrating all her attention on it as if it could tell her something.

She tried to interest herself in a book, and took one after another down from the shelf and brought them over to the deep-buttoned leather sofa, only to close each after a few glazed minutes of reading. She drew the purple velvet curtains across the windows, although there was no possibility that anyone could see inside the room.

Just when she was about to give in, climb the ladder, and take down the volume, Urbino rang.

‘I just got in. What's going on?'

‘Oh, Urbino! Finally! You have to come here.' She explained about the envelope. ‘I'll have Pasquale pick you up.'

‘Here.' Urbino said from the library ladder. He handed the contessa the encyclopedia volume. ‘You can have the honors. Look for it.'

She took the book to the long table by the windows that looked down on the garden. Urbino joined her.

She riffled through the pages. Placed between two of them near the end of the book was an envelope.

‘Here it is. Just where she said it would be.' What might be in the envelope was, for a moment, less important to the contessa than that the envelope was there. It gratified her to have this physical proof that Mina had been telling the truth about it. ‘It does look old.'

The envelope was about five by seven inches. It was slightly yellowed and had fly specks on it – or the kind of small brownish stains the contessa had once been told came from flies. Nothing was written on the front. She turned it over. Nothing was written on the back either. The flap, which was not sealed, had been tucked neatly into the back of the envelope.