Liquid Desires by Edward Sklepowich Page A

senses. Urbino liked to think that he was doing something similar at the Palazzo Uccello although he shared very little of the hero’s decadent sensibility. But like that aristocratic hero he, too, preferred to distance himself somewhat from vulgar reality. Yet, ironically, Urbino was often in quest of this same “vulgar reality” in his investigations and in his Venetian Lives . He told himself, however, that this wasn’t perhaps inconsistent at all, since the end result of both endeavors was the kind of order that he craved.
    Back at the Palazzo Uccello, Urbino called the Contessa and told her about the artist Bruno Novembrini and Ladislao Mirko, the padrone of the Casa Trieste.
    â€œYou’ve learned quite a bit already, caro ! Now we at least know her last name. Brollo, Brollo. The name doesn’t quite mean anything to me, and yet—” She broke off, ostensibly to search the corners of her mind for some association. “I’m being teased. I seem to have heard the name before.”
    â€œIt isn’t all that unusual.”
    Then Urbino told her that Flavia’s father was a pianist.
    â€œThat could be it,” the Contessa said. “I could have heard his name at the conservatory. He might even have been one of the teachers. I’ll go through my bits and pieces from those days. You know, Urbino, I’m even more apprehensive now than I was before. If this Flavia Brollo could bring herself to slash the painting the way she did, who knows what she might be capable of? You said that Novembrini seemed afraid for himself. He’s probably afraid she’ll come at him with a knife next time! Do you think they’re having an affair?”
    â€œEither they’re having one—or it’s over. That might be the reason she slashed the painting. An attractive young woman joined him at the café when I was leaving. Maybe it’s his new girlfriend.”
    â€œNow I have something to tell you, caro ,” the Contessa said with a little thrill of excitement in her voice. “I’m seeing the young lady in question tomorrow. She called and said that she would like to see me at Florian’s.”
    â€œFlorian’s?”
    â€œIt surprised me, too, but now that you’ve told me about how violent she can be, I’m almost glad it won’t be here. Somewhere public might be better—or should I say ‘safer’? But then again you couldn’t find a more public place than the Italy Pavilion, could you? That’s why I’m glad you’ll be with me.”
    â€œIt might be better to see her alone.”
    â€œBut then I wouldn’t be able to see her at all. Signorina Brollo insists on you. She said to be sure that my good-looking young friend was there, too. I’ve added the ‘good-looking,’ caro . Call me unredeemably prejudiced, but as for the rest—yes, she insists.”
    â€œBut why?”
    â€œIt’s obvious, isn’t it?” The Contessa paused dramatically. “She’s afraid of being alone with me ! That’s why she chose Florian’s. You may think you’re a master of concealment, Urbino, but one thing you can’t hide is how much your heart goes out to women in distress. She knows she can count on you to keep me in line. Thursday at four.”

15
    The expression that Urbino found on the Contessa’s face on Thursday afternoon when he slipped into the chair across from her revealed all the irritation she felt about the way the Chinese salon at Caffè Florian had been invaded. The doors between the salon and the arcade, usually closed so that the only access to the room was through the café itself, were thrown open. What in other seasons was the Contessa’s vantage point from which she could peer into the square from behind a shield of dark wood and glass was now itself in the midst of activity.
    Tourists intruded their heads to take in the salon’s