Lysette by Sylvia Halliday

Author:Sylvia Halliday
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626815391
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2015-01-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

November brought with it a cold wind, the first light dusting of snow, and Rondini. More properly, as Jean-Auguste introduced him with a flourish, Giacopo Rondini, master glassmaker, and his son Guglielmo. Darkly handsome, father and son, with crisp black hair and liquid eyes, their faces spoke of olive groves in the warm sun, of the hills of Tuscany and the lagoons of Venice, of the heritage their ancestors had left a century before. Rondini swept off his plumed hat and bowed elaborately to Lysette with a flamboyant panache all the more remarkable because there was not a shred of arrogance in his manner. A proud man, sure of his skills, aware of the special place his art reserved for him in society—not quite the equal of the lord of the manor, yet far above even the most exalted servant. A young man about Lysette’s age, Guglielmo had the sparkle of his father but with the impetuosity of his own tender years; Jean-Auguste’s presence scarcely dampened the enthusiasm with which he kissed Lysette’s hand and appraised her with his dark brown eyes. Accustomed as she was to flattering glances and masculine admiration, she still found herself almost disconcerted by the openness of his regard; as though he deemed it perfectly proper to ravish her with his eyes as long as he respected her virtue as the wife of the seigneur.

By the time they sat down to supper in the small salon, however, Lysette had begun to relax and enjoy Guglielmo’s approbation. He seemed to find her fascinating; he laughed delightedly at all her witticisms, and smiled dazzlingly only for her. Indeed, even the elder Rondini was more and more beguiled by her charm, telling her at great length about his ancestors who had been master glassmakers in Venice. In those days, he said, the glassmakers had lived as virtual prisoners on an island in the lagoon, enjoying great wealth and honors—the glassmakers of Murano being the only commoners allowed to intermarry with the nobility—but prevented from communicating with the outside world lest the secrets of their art be revealed. While Lysette sat spellbound he told her of one glassmaker who had managed to escape; members of the Guild had tracked him to the very gates of Paris, and there murdered him horribly. That was, of course, he said, in the old times, when the secrets were more carefully guarded; many men knew the formulas today, he said, though few possessed the fine skills of the past. That was why a man needed a son—to keep the art alive.

After supper, armed with a bright torch, he insisted that Lysette and Jean-Auguste come to the stables to see the supplies he had brought with him; besides two geese, an old brown cow, and half a dozen sheep with which he and his son would set up housekeeping, there was a large, ox-drawn wagon piled high with the trappings of his trade. Iron rods and pipes and pincers. Sacks of fire clay to make bricks for the furnace and the kiln.

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