No word came from him for days as she had expected, and she learned from Franca that the Maestro made long hours of work. He had been commissioned to provide a new design for the Basilica Santa Maria Formosa, which had burned down in a most unfortunate fire at mass, now two years ago. The structure now stood, but still required much work both interior and exterior, and the Maestro took extensive care in following the process of labour, seeing to it that every detail was being carried out exactly as he had designed it. Christine smiled at the memory of endless rehearsals, his voice ranging from soothing to scorning, making sure each note escaping her vocal cords was like sugar to his sensitive hearing. If his dedication to architecture displayed the same feverish search for perfection, it would become a structure beyond anyone's immagination indeed.
"Three weeks have I now been here, have I not Franca? And all this time I have not had the pleasure of being about town. How I wish to see it!"
Franca herself had noticed the gloom in Christine's composure and inwardly she scolded her master for it. To drag the lady away from everything she knew, only to lock her in the house expecting her to adjust...he should have paid her more attention. But their dinner had not exactly gone as planned, judging by the full plates that had been returned to the kitchen that night, and neither had bothered commenting on what had taken place.
"If you wish we could walk to town together Madama, I'm sure il Dottore would recommend it!"
The thought filled Christine with a joy beyond compare. "There is nothing I would enjoy more, Franca!" She noticed Christine was eager to get dressed, but she stopped her. "First your breakfast Madama, or you will have no figure to show in these beautiful gowns!"
Christine blushed at her remark. When with Raoul she had been eager to look good for him, and he had often stood mesmerised before her. "You are my Lotte no more, Madame. You have chased her away with your exquisite figure!" She suddenly remembered his burning eyes following her curves that night. "My heart will not permit it..." She could not put the feeling aside that her mere presence here had shaken the very foundations of those strong resolutions he had formed, breaking and tearing at the walls around his soul, and she noticed she did not feel sorry for it.
Feeling her heart pounding, she quickly shook the thought from her mind as Franca carefully fastened her corset. She had decided to go into town and refused to do so if not dressed as a lady. "I would finish sooner would you stand still, Madama!" Franca noticed she was restless, and wanted to leave as quickly as possible.
And so the ladies went about town, Céline dancing about in between them amazed at everything new she saw. This world was so different from anything she had ever witnessed at home, where her father had been very protective of her and would never allow Christine to even take her out as short away as Paris. Christine stood in awe as much as her child. She could now completely understand his choice. Venice was so much warmer, richer, more vibrant than Paris could ever be! People had an open and friendly way of beying about, and most of everyday life happened outside in the warm sunshine. Without noticing their direction, she suddenly found herself in front of a grand structure still under construction. It was a Basilica, a house of God. But is was not so much the structure that amazed her. In front of it, in the warm light, she noticed a man bent over his drawings, pacing about in his crisp white shirt giving orders to the workmen. His every gesture so well composed yet so full of passion for his work, his art. His white mask and ash blond hair shimmering in the sunlight in turn. He needed not to face her before she had recognised him.
As if he had sensed her, he turned around. For a moment he stood silent, before carefully approaching her. "Madame, I bid you good morning. The Palazzo could no longer contain your need for diversity?"
Christine scolded Franca silently, no doubt she had deliberately led her here. By the look on his face she could tell he was thinking the same thing. "I am merely following my doctor's orders of obtaining as much exercise and fresh air as I possibly can Monsieur."
"And you are in pursuit of this at possibly the noisiest, most overcast location in the whole of Venice? I must tell Franca her sense for direction has strayed poorly!"
Some of the workmen turned around at the sound of a foreign language and the sight of so pretty a lady. Though she spoke some Italian she felt safer in speaking to him in French. It seemed to make him feel at ease as well, even bringing a smile to his face. By God, how well she looked. The sun, mixed with the diversions of Venice, had painted her cheeks a sweet rose, and made her dark curls shimmer. The light blouse and deep blue skirt she had chosen to wear complimented her perfectly, a corset shaping her curves.
"Now that I am here, would you honour me by showing me you work, Monsieur? It has been...quite some time since I had the opportunity to enjoy it."
He hesitated, feeling uncomfortable being seen with her in public, but felt reluctant in sending her away. Her interest seemed sincere, he knew it to be sincere, and he was eager to show her his progress. Before he realised it, he had offered her his hand, carefully leading her across the wooden floorboards towards the entrance of the Basilica. With one stern look he sent the worksmen back to their duties, demanding not to be disturbed.
What she saw inside surpassed her wildest immagination. "Good God...it is amazing. Such praise to our dear Lord." She turned around at him, her voice no more then a whisper in such a holy place. She noticed his excitement at her praise, as if he had eagerly been seeking her good opinion.
"I am glad you approve of it. It is of course far from finished, but work is proceeding as well as could be expected. The soft weather these last months has aided us greatly…"
His voice trailed off in her mind as he led her from one miracle to the other, explaining in detail how he envisioned the Basilica to become. She was greatly moved in seeing him talk about his passions so openly.
"How I envy your talents." He went silent in the middle of his sentence upon hearing her speak.
"You need no drawings to envision your dream, nor did you need a finished score to hear those lovely melodies in you head, teaching them to me. So many dreams and miracles lie inside your soul…and I am so honoured that you allow me to share them with you."
For a moment he did not know what to say, touched by her compliments. "You were always my one companion where dreams be concerned Christine…"
She gasped. He had said it. He had used her name even though it had sounded as no more than a whisper. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, but before she could speak they were abruptly intervened by a pompous Italian, entering the Basilica enthusiastically waving his arms and throwing about compliments and good wishes. No time, there never seemed enough time or an appropriate moment to speak.
"Maestro! How good to meet you here! I had rather hoped you would grace us with your presence today. I had been meaning to speak with you for some time to complement you on your progress, but I was informed it had been some time since you were here last? Nothing serious, I hope?" He then spotted Christine, standing aside somewhat uneasy. "Oh, I am deeply sorry for intruding you. Signorina…" and tipped his head.
"No, no, by all means. I am happy to see you. May I… introduce my friend, la Signora Christina Contessa de Changy of Paris, France." Quickly he had set the acquaintance so as to prevent any other assumption to arise in the gentleman's mind.
"Contessa, I am your humble servant." He bowed deeply, impressed by her title and embarrassed to have assumed her a young maiden when she was in fact a woman of ranking.
"Signore Galdoni is President of the Committee raised to built the new Basilica. I have just explained to la Contessa how the old structure was so cruelly destroyed by fire…" If he had indeed, it had completely passed her by. All she could remember was watching him walk about, staring at HIS building with such love and devotion.
"You have come to visit our lovely city just in time to watch a phoenix arise from the ashes, Contessa. If not for Signore Alighieri we would all be in great despair. Seeing as you are his friend, I need not boast of his many fine qualities to you, I am sure?"
It was obvious the man would not leave before establishing something of a link between his architect and the lovely looking Contessa. He did not know what to do. He knew before long the whole of Venice's upper circles would learn of Christine's arrival. But Christine, having lived among aristocracy longer than him, came to his rescue.
"Indeed, Signore. I was so fortunate as to receive my vocal training by the Maestro, from a very early age. When I fell ill this last cold winter, Signore Alighieri was kind enough to invite me here to allow my lungs to recover from their straining. I must say the warm climate and the friendliness of the people have done me a world of good!"
The older gentleman glowed on hearing her praise of Venice and its people. "Bravo! I am glad to see you healed Contessa!"
Turning, he patted his architect on the shoulder. "If la Contessa is so fond of music indeed, you must bring her to the Opera some time, my good man! She will enjoy it thoroughly, I am sure!" Christine looked down, exited to hear the Opera being mentioned but not at the least sure whether he would share her enthusiasm, let alone bring her!
"If la Contessa would do me that great honour, I most certainly will." She looked up from one man to the other, both looking back at her expectantly. "I…would be delighted indeed."
As the older gentleman made his leave, Christine could hear Céline outside the Basilica, obviously bored and willing to move on. She could hear him, her Angel, moving behind her restlessly as well, as if kept from his work. Her Angel...
She turned to him. "Your name, Monsieur..." He froze in place as he scanned her face, searching it for her purpose.
"I suppose I could not continue calling you my Angel when clearly you are a man of flesh and blood, could I?"
He returned her smile, realising that would indeed seem odd.
"Erik. It is Erik." He pronounced it as if he had to reacquaint himself with the sound of it.
"Thank you for seeing me Erik. I have thoroughly enjoyed my visit." When no response seemed to come from him, she held out her hand to him which he courteously kissed, holding it slightly longer than perhaps appropriate before she turned and resumed her walk.