The Enchantress of Florence: A Novel by Salman Rushdie

Author:Salman Rushdie
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3
Tags: Europe, Mogul Empire - Social conditions, Italy, Historical fiction, Mogul Empire, Mogul Empire - Kings and rulers, General, Literary, Women, Florence (Italy), Women - Mogul Empire, Historical, Florence (Italy) - Social conditions, Fiction, Florence, Women - Italy - Florence, History
ISBN: 9780375504334
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2008-05-27T20:22:31+00:00

He awoke to screaming and light and open windows, women running everywhere while the midget Giulietta screeched into his ear, “What did you do to her?” Courtesans without their finery, their hair a-straggle, their faces unpainted and dirty, their night-clothes askew, ran shouting from room to room. All the doors had been flung open and daylight, enchantment’s antidote, poured brutally through the House of Mars. What harridans these women were, what poxy, uncouth rodents with bad breath and ugly voices. He sat up and struggled into his clothes. “What did you do?” But he had done nothing. He had helped her, cleansed her mind, set her spirit free, and barely laid a finger upon her. Certainly he didn’t owe the ruffiana any money. Why was she harassing him so? Why the commotion? He should leave at once. He should find Ago and Biagio and di Romolo and have some breakfast. And no doubt there was work to be done. “You stupid fool,” Giulietta Veronese was shouting, “to meddle in what you didn’t understand.” Something had happened here. He was presentable now and moved through the un-magicked House of Mars with as much dignity as he could muster. The courtesans fell silent as he passed. Some of them pointed. One or two were heard to hiss. There was a shattered window in the grand salon, on the side that overlooked the Arno. He needed to know what had happened. Then the house’s mistress stood before him, La Fiorentina, still beautiful without a shred of cosmetic assistance. “Mr. Secretary,” she said with icy formality. “You will never be welcome in this house again.” Then she left him in a flurry of petticoats and the crying, the lamentation started up again. “God damn you,” said Giulietta the ruffiana. “It was impossible to stop her. She ran from that room where you slept on like a rotting corpse, and nobody could get in her way.”

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