The Secret of the Glass by Donna Russo Morin

Author:Donna Russo Morin [Morin, Donna Russo]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Venice (Italy) - History - 17th Century, Glass Manufacture, General, Historical, Historical Fiction, Venice (Italy), Fiction, Love Stories
ISBN: 9780758226921
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2010-03-01T07:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

His excitement propelled him across the piazza, his feet skipping upon the cobblestone courtyard, his pumpkin breeches and muffin hat flopping with each spirited step. The breeze threatened to snatch the puffy chapeau off his balding head and Galileo smacked one hand down upon it just in time. With his other, he clutched the strangely shaped leather satchel close to his chest, holding it within a protective embrace. The square teemed with people—tourists, courtiers, foreign ambassadors, and marketgoers—the evening bells would not ring for more than hour, and he feared a collision or, worse, the thieving hands of a street urchin.

At the base of the Staircase of Giants he was met by a page, a young man in puffed trunks and tabard, who bowed without a word, extending his hand upward toward the rising stairs and the giants standing guard at the summit. Galileo leapt up the marble steps and took the three flights of stairs at a run, the page following breathlessly behind. At the top he stopped, allowing the squire to take the lead, unsure of which of the many chambers to enter.

The gangly equerry strode down the long hall toward the Sala del Maggior Consiglio, his wooden heels clacking in the silence of the unpopulated passageway, but instead of entering the door on the right, he turned left and opened the portal to one of the smaller rooms along the backside of the palace. Galileo stepped through the door of the Sala della Quarantia Civil the boy held open for him.

Forty-two men sat in wood and polished leather chairs arranged in a large circle in the small room, their deep voices rumbling like a constant storm in the distance. Muted late afternoon light filtered through the east-facing windows, overpowered by the illumination of the candles in the chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, their waxy aroma filling the room. This was the meeting place of the Quarantia, the law-making body of the Venetian government. Sitting among them, as he often did, was the Doge himself. When Galileo had sent a request to meet with the Doge, he never expected the audience to take place here, in front of this group of men. Tightening his grip upon the case as if to gain strength from the object within, he threw off his astonishment and hesitancy, stepped forward, and bowed.

“Come in, Galileo, come in.” Doge Donato beckoned him forward. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Grazie, la signoria vostra.” Galileo offered his characteristic, crooked bow to all the corners of the room. “And I thank all of you gentlemen for this opportunity.”

Donato stood and crossed to Galileo, grasping the scientist’s hand, and pumped it with enthusiasm.

“We are pleased to see you again, professore. I have been talking about you for days now, you and your miraculous device. I still sometimes cannot believe what my own eyes showed me.”

Galileo beamed. “Then I have come just in time. I have brought this for you and for the Serene Republic of Venice.”

With a flourish,

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