Venetian Mask

Chapter One Marietta raised the velvet-covered lid of the box. Immediately her green eyes widened at the sight of the full-faced golden mask that shone from its bed of black satin. A strange shiver passed down her spine. "Who has ordered this mask, Mama?" she asked almost warily, recalling that a few days ago she had seen her widowed mother, an outworker for a shop in distant Venice, give it a second coat of a certain rust-red paint in preparation for its gilding. Then it had been just another mask among so many in the workroom, but now, newly returned from the gilder, it had somehow leapt into life. Its strong male features showed a forceful nose, deeply indented chin, wide planes across the brow and cheekbones, and a well-cut mouth. "I know nothing about the purchaser, except that the base was molded from a sculpture of his face." Cattina Fontana looked up slowly from stitching sequins to a mask, every movement an effort in her poor state of health, and her gaze lingered fondly on her twelve-year-old daughter. "Why would anyone want his own likeness in a mask?" Marietta continued to be uneasily intrigued. Masks were to conceal, not to reveal the wearer's identity. "It will be for fashionable occasions, when everyone knows the young man, not a mask for disguise. I expect he has a host of those and wanted an exclusive one with which to impress his friends." "How do you know he's young?" "I don't," Cattina admitted, "but it's the kind of novelty that would appeal to a youth in Venice. Now add the tie-ribbons to it as I asked you." Cattina returned to her sewing, her hands trembling with weakness. A persistent cough had drained all her energy over the past several months. Although her illness had given her a greyish pallor and hollowed her eyes, it could not change the facial bone structure that had made her a fine-looking woman. It was from her that her only child had inherited an unusual beauty destined to fascinate. The sequins winked little flashes of light as Cattina stitched. It was the last mask on which she would ever work. Even with Marietta's skillful help her mask-making days had come to an end. She was full of dread. For far too long she had postponed telling Marietta what was to happen on the morrow. With care Marietta took the golden mask out of its box and set it down on the table in front of her. Then she measured two lengths of black silk tie-ribbon from a roll, snipping them off with her scissors. Her fingers seemed to tingle as she threaded a ribbon through the small hole at each side and fastened them into place. "This Venetian must be rich to have such a costly mask made at a whim," she remarked as she closed the lid on it again. She had the eerie feeling that it was continuing to stare through the box at her. "If he's a member of one of the wealthy patrician families it will be a mere bagatelle to him. Yet it's an investment, because he'll be able to wear it all his life." "As I shall wear mine!" With a swirl of her long red-gold hair Marietta pulled open a drawer, took from it the moretta mask her mother had made her some while ago, and held it to her face. It was black and oval as these charming masks commonly were. "May it always be a pleasure to you, child." Cattina had enjoyed making it as a Christmas surprise. The moretta mask was worn by all social classes of women in Venice, according to Iseppo Marcello, the bargeman who plied his trade between the heart of the Most Serene Republic and Padua. It was Iseppo who delivered the work to Cattina and then collected the finished masks from her. He had given his promiLaker, Rosalind is the author of 'Venetian Mask', published 2008 under ISBN 9780307352569 and ISBN 0307352560.