Of all the forms of art in the world,
none is superior to MUSIC...
as there isn’t a single soul
who will remain indifferent to it.
Florence... Fifteen hundred... One of the liveliest, most original cities in Italy, having long ago secured the honor of being one of the most beautiful places, was rife with sad gossip: For the last two months, Signorina Violetta, the only daughter of Antonio Grazza, the wealthiest merchant, had been dying of an unknown disease. Her condition deteriorated every day. All the famous doctors and physicians invited to the bed of his dying daughter could not identify the disease and threw up their hands in despair. Her adoring father’s grief knew no bounds: The mere thought that his little princess could close her eyes forever was driving him mad.
Signorina Violetta was not only the most graceful, most educated girl in Florence, she was also divinely beautiful. There was not a single musician or poet in the city who failed to pay attention to the image of the beautiful Violetta in their work. Her father did not have to provide any material compensation to get his daughter sung about in poetry or music, as other wealthy citizens of Florence did. Poets and musicians included her voluntarily, although Signor Grazza gave them due attention. The doors to the Villa of the Grazza family were always open to respected representatives of the arts and sciences.
As the son of a bankrupt merchant who was a drinker and died when little Antonio was 10 years old, he had worked hard from an early age to support his mother and younger sisters. Although school was out of the question, little Antonio had an amazing talent – he absorbed everything that concerned art and science. In his own way, he was a natural genius: He could be satisfied with a piece of bread and a cup of milk, as long as the florins left after personal needs were spent on knowledge. It was his perseverance, hard work and thirst for knowledge that not only helped him to pay off his father’s debts and lift his mother and sisters out of poverty, but also made him one of the wealthiest citizens of Florence. He was the main supplier of expensive fabrics – brocade, silk and velvet. Thanks to him, Florence became the home of lace. Ceramic masters in the town of Deruta, glass craftsmen in Murano, merchants of the Mediterranean, Venice and Genoa, who brought amber, rice, sugar, raisins and spices to the annual fair, considered it an honor to trade with Signor Grazza. The people of Florence also appreciated the merchant Grazza, understanding the direct link between their material well-being and the business abilities of the energetic dealer. Knowing the price of poverty, the merchant Grazza never forgot the needy. He had taught his two sons and youngest daughter to do charity work since they were children. Many wealthy citizens of Florence claimed that Signor Grazza, who was very fond of the history and culture of ancient Greece, did not forget the principles of democratic philosophy. However, Signor Grazza, although a great patron of arts, would not have wasted a florin simply so.
Signorina Violetta’s disease left no one indifferent: All the citizens of Florence mentioned her in their prayers and hoped for divine providence. Yet the disease, which had begun almost two months ago, not only did not retreat, but seemed to have intensified even more in recent days.
The rumor of the beautiful Violetta Grazza’s imminent death spread beyond the borders of Florence.
“Good morning, Signor Grazza,” said Padre Lorenzo, his eyes glittering with tears.
“If only the morning were good, Padre Lorenzo,” replied the voice of Signor Grazza, shaking, as he tried to cope with the lump stuck in his throat.
“Still no change?”
“If only we understood what was going on? What’s brought down her health so much?”
“It seems to me that Signorina Violetta looked detached at her last confession, Signor Grazza.”
“Padre Lorenzo! You know how much trust there is between me and my daughter. But I got the impression that she has something she can’t share with anyone... even with me. Ah! If only her mother were alive...”
“Signor Grazza! I know that all the called doctors are unable to understand the cause of the disease. But today I came with a little hope in my heart...” – the Padre’s last words made Signor Grazza perk up.
“They say there’s an old Egyptian sage in Genoa. People say he has the ability to work miracles...” – Signor Grazza raised his hand sharply.
“How can I trust my angel’s health to a representative of another religion, Padre Lorenzo?”
“By nationality, Avad Mussa is not an Arab, he’s a Copt, that is, a purebred Egyptian. Copts are Egyptian Christians, representatives of one of the most ancient branches of Christianity. In their history and culture, they have managed to preserve traits that go back centuries.”
“And he knows how to heal?”
“I’ve been told that people open their souls to him... down to the bottom and leave him as if born again.”
“And you are the one saying this, Padre Lorenzo?”
“Signor Grazza! The illiterate fisherman and stutter, Simon, who became the Apostle Peter later, established the foundation on which the church was built. Who are we to judge the power that works miracles given to one or the other by the Lord?”
“You’re right...”
“Besides, he’s not a priest. People somehow feel that they can trust him and start their lives all over again.”
“Do you know him personally?”
“No! However, one of my acquaintances, a fairly wealthy man, after an accidental meeting with him, opened a school for poor children in Persia and Syria. They get a brilliant education there. It should be noted that the very notion of charity disgusted this affluent man all his life.”
“Really? Now I’m even more interested in meeting this mysterious Egyptian...”
“Does that mean you’re willing to take a chance?”
“Dear Padre Lorenzo! As of today, I’ve exhausted my options... How soon can he come? We don’t have much time!”
“I’m off. Goodbye.”
Early the next morning, there was a knock on the door to the Villa Grazza. It had been another sleepless night for the miserable father. His eyes did not close until dawn, as he sat languishing with distressing thoughts before the fireplace. He jumped at the knock and ran to the door without waiting for the servant.
When Signor Grazza opened the door, Padre Lorenzo stood before him with a rather tall, skinny, swarthy old man with subtle facial features behind him.
Signor Grazza politely said hello, looking first at Padre Lorenzo, then at the stranger, in a somewhat distracted manner, and invited them to come in. Avad Mussa smiled and bowed.
“Signor Grazza! I know the reason I have been invited to see you. Let’s not waste any time. Take me to Signorina Violetta.
The old man stopped at the door to Signorina Violetta’s room:
“From here, I’ll go myself. Thank you.”
He quietly opened the door and also quietly closed it behind him.
Signor Grazza and Padre Lorenzo returned to the living room and prepared to wait. In the eyes of the miserable father, there was a question...
The old man returned to them pretty soon:
“It’s the worst disease of mankind... it’s called Love without Hope.”
“Is my daughter in love?” asked Signor Grazza, truly surprised. “But my daughter has had a lot of suitors! She’s rejected all offers for her hand and heart! Who is he? Was there someone who didn’t reciprocate her feelings?” – Her father’s indignation was boundless. “Where can I find him? What’s his name?”
“His name is Cry of Pain! Unfortunately, that’s all I can tell you.”
The old man bowed politely and went out. Signor Grazza and Padre Lorenzo were left perplexed...
However...
This story began three years earlier. Signor Grazza, like all wealthy Italian citizens during the Renaissance, decided to immortalize his family: He ordered a monumental portrait of the Grazza family by the famous artist and master Luca Signorelli, one of the outstanding representatives of the Umbrian school of painting. The master arrived with his favorite apprentice, Lino. In the three months that the family picture was being painted, all the members of the Grazza family had come to adore Lino. He was a very well-raised, educated and beautiful 20-year-old young man: tall, with a physique reminiscent of Greek athletes, olive-colored skin, black shiny hair and refined facial features. However, it was especially his dark-blue eyes and beautifully outlined mouth with lips the color of dried raspberry that stood out against the general backdrop of masculine beauty. Master Signorelli treated him like a son, emphasizing his talent and entrusting the most important parts of the huge painting to him. It turned out that Lino was not only a talented artist, but also a unique musician – he had a virtuoso’s command of the Arabic rebab, Spanish fidele, German rotta and Pontic lyra.
His musical talent had come as a surprise to the members of the Grazza family. The Villa was preparing for another feast in the Loggia, where from time to time Florence’s musicians met. Florence’s most generous benefactor, Signor Grazza, announced a big reward for the best musician in the city. All the local elite gathered at the Villa. The Loggia was decorated with garlands of flowers, and guests partook of dried fruits and sipped wine while waiting for the repast. After the musicians’ performances, the main repast was served, and at the end of the feast Signor Grazza was to announce the name of the winner.
Signorina Violetta was beautiful as always: golden hair, gathered in a low bun, primped with a string of black pearls falling on her high forehead; a dress made of expensive black brocade on which lilies were embroidered with gold threads; a royal posture and violet eyes framed with golden lashes; her gentle hands holding a fan of ostrich feathers, with a dagger tucked into her belt – a necessary attribute for an upper-class Florentine... She combined what cannot be combined. Her enticing beauty drew attention to herself, fascinating and hypnotizing others.
The musicians were performing one after the other. Already, the Loggia began to be daubed in the crimson colors of the sunset. Already, the poor people in the city had begun to gather near the Loggia to get the remains of the food from the repast, as was the tradition.
“I don’t think there are any more players, are there?” Signor Grazza asked.
“May I play, Signor Grazza?” – It was Lino’s voice they all heard. “I’ll let Signorina Violetta choose the instrument.”
She chose an Arab rebab because she had never heard the sound of this strange instrument.
Lino played and played without stopping. Sweet music, with a slight Eastern sound, cascaded over them like wine from a jug. When he finished playing, there was thunderous applause. He was applauded even by previous performers. There was no doubt that Lino was the best.
From that day on, Signorina Violetta wished to take lessons from Lino to learn the rebab. The daily lessons brought them closer together. If, before this, Signorina Violetta treated Lino like an apprentice of Master Signorelli, now their frequent meetings and subsequent conversations revealed to her not only the good heart of the young man, but also his dignity and education. Every day, Lino became more and more interesting and interesting to Signorina Violetta. The further they went, the longer the music lessons lasted. Lino was polite-courteous, understanding perfectly the social difference between them. Over time, the inevitable tension in their relationship subsided, and gradually both were drawn toward a revelation. Their relationship began to resemble a nice friendship with a slight note of amorousness. This is usually the case with those who know how to love, but cherish this feeling, treat the object of love with care, so as not to spoil the blissful thrill of the unknown with haste.
One day, after another music lesson, Signorina Violetta suggested they take a walk in the garden. The Grazza family’s garden was considered the most luxurious garden in Florence: the best gardeners from all over Europe tended to this simulacrum of Paradise. Terraced slopes and ornamental boxwood borders framed the entire grounds of the garden with living hedges, while citrus trees and curly grapes grew in giant decorative vases. Four ceramic fountains by the best masters of Deruta delighted the ears with the eternal murmuring of flowing water, and the most beautiful flowers of all shades and varieties blossomed throughout the garden: irises, tulips, roses, lilies and violets. And of course, the central part of this floral paradise was dedicated to the beautiful Signorina Violetta: A brilliant master of crystal art from the city of Faenza had been commissioned by Signor Grazza for the fifth anniversary of little Violetta. He was to create a crystal statue of a charming girl holding a bouquet of flowers in her hands. The highlight of the crystal bouquet was the hollow stems where fresh flowers were put every day at the request of Signorina Violetta.
“How much work and taste has been invested in your garden, Signorina Violetta! This isn’t the first time I’ve walked around here, and believe me, every time I find something new. Amazing!”
“I’m pleased to hear your praise, Signor Lino. Tell me, what are your favorite flowers?”
“Gerberas... my mother loved them.”
“I haven’t heard of them.”
“They’re not considered refined flowers. Although, I don’t know why.”
“And how did these flowers so attract your attention? Just because your mother loved them?”
“No flower in the world has the look of human eyes. Not the shape of the eyes, but the expression of the eyes. And the expression of the eyes of a pure human soul. That’s what my mother said, and she was right.”
“After what you said, I would like to know more about what those flowers look like.”
“Your eyes look like two gerbera flowers, Signorina
Violetta,” – Lino smiled.
“It’s been almost two months since we’ve been talking, but I don’t know anything about you. Tell me about yourself, Signor Lino. Don’t think it’s bad manners.”
“I have nothing to hide, Signorina Violetta. My mother is Italian by her father and Russian by her mother; and my father is a Moor. I inherited the blue eyes from my mother and the darker skin from my father. They loved each other very much.”
“Why are you talking about them in the past tense?”
“It’s a long and sad story. And I need to get everything necessary for work ready for Master Signorelli’s arrival.”
“There’s plenty of time, tell me. I will take full responsibility for the work you didn’t do on time,” the young girl said, puffing her lips.
Lino smiled and sighed jokingly.
“My father is a direct descendant of the Almoravids. They built a powerful state in the 11th century. During their time, the Moors achieved their halcyon days and reached the zenith of their power. One hundred years ago, the Arab Maqil tribes invaded the country and the process of adopting Islam was completed.
My mother, a woman of rare beauty, was stolen and sent to a slave market. My father fell in love with her as soon as he saw her. He bought her, had her delivered, but he did not touch her, even though she was his property. My mother loved my father for his nobility and the purity of his soul. My father wanted to marry my mother. But his family resisted: How can you marry a woman of a different faith, a slave, and – to boot – a commoner? But my father insisted, and he was stripped of his title and inheritance. My mother was already pregnant with me when the two of them, deprived of everything, set off on their way to Italy, to my mother’s father. The road was long and difficult: They walked through the Sahara to the Mediterranean Sea. A black scorpion stung my father on the way. The wound was fatal, and if an old Bedouin hadn’t helped him, he would have died on the trip. They barely made it to Umbria, where my mother was from. My father’s wound didn’t heal, his leg turned black, and he died a week after I was born. So I don’t remember him. My grandfather was a very versatile musician. Although his ability to play different stringed instruments was limited only to occasional additional income, it did not prevent him from introducing me to the music and playing with me from the age of 3. So I owe my playing to my grandfather. My mother died of consumption when I was 12 years old. Six years before her death, she showed me my father’s ring: It had a seal of the Almoravid family with a rare 8-sided emerald – the only memory of him that was miraculously preserved. That ring was priceless, but my mother sold it. She sent me to the best private school with the large amount of money she received, and after her death I studied at the prestigious school of painting in Umbria with the rest of the money. That’s where Master Signorelli noticed me.”
Signorina Violetta listened to the young artist’s story with bated breath. His candid story and the immeasurable sadness in Lino’s eyes touched the young girl’s heart.
“What can I do for you, Signor Lino?”
“Two things...” – she nodded quickly in agreement. – “One, you don’t have to feel sorry for me, and the other, take two gerbera flowers from me for the crystal fountain.”
Signorina Violetta smiled and liked the young man’s answer. Anyone else in his place wouldn’t refuse to take the unexpectedly offered opportunity to ask for something from a person as influential as Signorina Grazza.
Signorina Violetta waited for the next day with strange impatience, even for herself. “What is with me? Why am I so flustered?” the young girl never stopped asking herself. “It can’t be that this is Love,” she thought. After all, the most enviable grooms, not only in Florence, but also in Europe, had asked to marry her. Among them were wealthy and fearless, beautiful young men. But she easily refused them, and her heart was at ease. And now she didn’t want to sleep, she didn’t feel tired, and time was dragging on intolerably slowly. As soon as the first rays of the sun had begun to glimmer, she ran out into the garden, wearing a special hat on her head to lighten her hair. The elite Florentines spread their hair onto the wide brim of their crownless hats, believing that this made it possible to preserve the light golden shade of hair, which was considered a sign of upper-class origin.
Although she did not admit to herself that she was doing this for Lino, her eyes were glued to the forged carved gates of the Villa Grazza, through which the young artist entered every morning.
The gentle morning sun had exhausted her; she was lying on a wide chaise lounge, covering her eyes, when she suddenly heard Lino’s quiet voice:
“Good morning, Signorina Violetta?”
Signorina Violetta shuddered slightly, but managed to cope with the excitement. Languidly lifting her head, she looked at Lino. He was standing over her head, hiding something behind his back.
“Àh! Is that you, Signor Lino?” she said, on purpose, calmly. “Good morning!”
“And yet the most beautiful flower in the Grazza family paradise is you, Signorina Violetta...”
Lino spoke these simple words so tenderly, so sincerely. They did not resemble those endless pompous compliments that constantly rained down on the young lady and left her indifferent over time.
“As promised, I brought you two gerbera flowers,” – he stretched out his hand with tender, fluttering flowers. “Don't consider it stinginess, but I brought only two ... You can’t see the expression of human eyes in a bouquet. The color of this very gerbera is identical to the color of your eyes, and the similarity of the look and expression is simply amazing!”
Signorina Violetta carefully considered the flowers, strongly resembling large daisies, but with more velvety petals and thicker stems.
“They do have the expression of human eyes. But, Signor Lino... I understand that the dark disk at the center of the flower is the personification of my eyes. However, the light pink, pastel petals...?”
“Those are your gorgeous golden eyelashes, which acquire this very shade in a certain light... believe me! I’ve never seen golden eyelashes framing violet eyes. By the way, your eyes, like a Tourmaline gemstone, change color depending on the light.”
“I didn’t realize that you... Oh, well, okay! Let’s go to my crystal statue,” – she grabbed Lino by the hand, happily leading him there.
“No!” – she stopped at the crystal girl – “she must have a bouquet in her hands. I’ll order them to be put in my room by the bedside.”
She noticed the happiness in his eyes. In his big blue eyes, she saw the joy of her last words.
“Signor Lino! I want fresh gerberas, two gerberas, by my bedside all the time,” – and she smiled coquettishly at him and raised her eyebrows.
“It would be an honor for me, Signorina Violetta. A daily ritual.”
“Wonderful! And now I will keep goldening my hair until Master Signorelli arrives.”
Lino bowed and walked towards the Villa.
“It’s impossible to make gold even more gold,” – she heard Lino’s words as he walked away, and felt her body immersed in the warmth of what had been previously unknown.
From that day on, for more than a month now, Lino has brought two gerbera flowers to the beautiful signorina every morning. It was their secret, their personal ritual. They didn’t agree to conceal it. However, both realized that such frivolity on the part of Lino, a simple assistant to the famous master, could cost him dearly. Soon, at Signorina Violetta’s insistence, they switched to the informal “you,” adding another secret to the previous one. They stopped noticing that most of the music lesson was spent in affectionate conversation. They did not speak of Love... their eyes spoke of It... Their tremors testified to It, as did the light touch of their hands... Love permeated their essence, taking away their intellect and sobriety, swelling their soul with delight and trembling. They didn’t think about the future; and maybe they didn’t want to think about it. They enjoyed every moment here and now, evidently anticipating the impossible future.
“Signor Grazza! I have wonderful news for you,” – Master Signorelli addressed the father of the family after the next posing session. “In ten days, your picture will be completed.”
These words made Signorina Violetta shudder, and Lino almost dropped the palette from his hand. Luckily, no one noticed the confusion of the young people.
“Wonderful, Master Signorelli. I was planning a trip to Genoa and wanted to take my daughter with me.”
“What about my music lessons?” Signorina Violetta asked calmly, after overcoming her agitation.
“My beauty! I’ll find you a wonderful teacher. And for the young signor, I have a surprise. His talent in music is undeniable, and his dedication and devotion to painting should be rewarded. I will cover all the costs and pay for your training with one of the geniuses of the Venice school – Paolo Veneziano. The contract has been signed, and I’m doing it with great pleasure.”
Lino was as pale as a canvas, afraid to move.
“Bravo, Signor Grazza!” – Master Signorelli clapped his hands and, looking at Lino, exclaimed. “I think Lino cannot believe his ears! Wake up, son! This opportunity is a gift from Heaven!”
Lino returned to himself a little and started thanking Signor Grazza. When he turned around, Violetta was no longer in the room...
That evening, for the first time, Signor Grazza wished to see Lino at the family table for dinner. Signorina Violetta did not join the guests, saying she had a migraine. Lino hoped until the last minute, waiting for the signorina and looking impatiently at the door. When the evening repast was over, Lino lost hope. He went back to the servant’s cottage and collapsed on the bed. He was overwhelmed by two opposing feelings: on the one hand, the endlessly enticing offer made by Signor Grazza, which opened the door to a great future for him; on the other hand, the mere thought of parting with Violetta drove him mad.
When he entered the garden of the Villa Grazza with two gerbera flowers the next day and did not see his Violetta, Lino became worried – was gripped by fear. Their unwritten rule on the two daily gerbera flowers had never been broken. Doesn’t Violetta want to see him, he thought. What was his fault? Should he have turned down Signor Grazza’s offer? But in any case, they wouldn’t have had the opportunity to meet, except secretly, after the completion of the work. Had Violetta lost interest in him?
These thoughts crisscrossed in his mind at an incredibly rapid pace. His irregular heartbeat reminded him of the fluttering wings of a wounded bird. His hands went numb, and he dropped the two gerbera flowers in the fountain water.
Hardly having gathered his strength, Lino went towards the Villa – it was necessary to work, he thought. When he entered the hall and saw Violetta, as always, sitting in her seat and posing as if nothing had happened, Lino shuddered. She didn’t even look at him. Usually Violetta sat in her unapproachably gracious pose, and Lino, modestly lowering his head, worked assiduously. But as soon as their eyes met, they began to hear their hearts beating in unison. One day Violetta had said:
“Lino! I feel something out of the ordinary when our eyes meet at a session!”
“Then it isn’t my imagination, Violetta! I think Cupid is flying around in the hall, and he’s practicing archery by shooting at my heart!”
She laughed loudly and boisterously, took his hand and led him to the gazebo covered with ‘lace’ ivy. It was their only place of solitude where, as on your palm, the path was visible, ruling out any surprise from the arrival of an unexpected witness.
Lino applied the final strokes; he worked on the details of Violetta’s beautiful fingers squeezing the handle of a silver stiletto with turquoise studs. Working on the beautiful girl’s fingers, he became engrossed. He remembered these fingers as they gently fidgeted over a silk lace handkerchief, which, accidentally dropped, no longer returned to its owner, and since then rested on the heart of the young man. He remembered how these fingers first touched his hand when she took the first two gerbera flowers he gave her. He remembered that magical day when he first touched Violetta’s hand with his lips, and it seemed to him that he touched the tenderest gerbera petals.
“How did you do it, my boy?” – He suddenly heard the voice of Master Signorelli. – “That is the hand of a mature artist,” – the master came closer to the canvas and narrowed his eyes. – “Apparently, you decided to justify the generosity of Signor Grazza and prove that you are worthy of it! Look at this! It looks like Signorina Violetta’s hand is in the air, outside the canvas! Look, Signor Grazza!”
While the girl’s father admired Lino’s work, Signorina Violetta got up abruptly from her seat, and loudly rustled away with her dress. Lino’s eyes filled with tears.
There was no change for the rest of the days until the painting was finished – two gerbera flowers, left in the fountain, the apparent indifference of the girl who did not want to meet him eye to eye, hard work and sleepless nights.
The painting was completed and enjoyed great success. Signor Grazza announced a reception in honor of this. Many elite Florentines, who came to this event, tried to persuade Master Signorelli not to leave and accept a commission for new paintings. Lino was hoping the master would at least let him stay. But the master’s answer was always the same:
“I’m sorry, maybe next year. I have to find a new assistant. My Lino is going to Venice to study with Paolo Veneziano himself. Signor Grazza’s generosity and magnanimity know no limits.”
Lino would have loved to leave the party; everything annoyed him. It seemed to him that, in his already difficult life, there had never been such despair, such a dead end. He didn’t see a way out.
All he wanted was for Violetta to hear him out one last time.
Signor Grazza asked them to stay a little longer and gain strength before the long trip.
In 4 days, Master Signorelli and Lino would be setting out on the road to faraway places: the master to Umbria and Lino to Venice. He understood that time was running out, so he decided to risk sending a message to his Violetta. The young signorina’s personal maid, Francheska, gladly agreed to Lino’s request. That same night, on a table next to a bone comb and fragrant oils, Signorina Violetta found two gerbera flowers and a letter tied to the stems with a silk ribbon.
“I’ll wait for you every night after the moon rises...” Violetta read. She knew who wrote the letter to her. She knew where he would be waiting for her. He did everything he could to avoid compromising her honorable name in the event that the letter was found.
The first two nights, Lino came to their gazebo with two gerbera flowers in his hand and departed in the middle of the night, throwing the flowers in the fountain. The first two nights, Violetta came earlier, hiding behind the boxwood border hedge and watching Lino.
There was one more day, and Lino had no hope left. He was about to depart when he heard footsteps. On the path, wrapped in a purple velvet cloak, Signorina Violetta walked toward him. Lino was about to rush forward, but she yanked up her hand to stop his impulse. She walked past him in silence, stood with her back to him and said:
“I came as you asked. I’m listening.”
Lino came closer and started talking:
“Signorina Violetta! You are a distinguished, 16-year-old, Florentine woman, and have heard all possible words of love before me, from much more worthy people. I’m 20 and I have nothing but honor and conscience to offer you. You are the reason why, for the first time, I decided to turn my life upside down and become worthy of you and your love. You are my life! I’m going to Venice and I will work and study day and night. And if God increases my talent and I become a great artist, then I will manage to equalize what divides us. Even if you’re married by then, I’ll still think my work isn’t in vain! That’s the only thing I can throw at your feet as evidence of my love.”
She slowly turned to Lino, and he saw the former expression of her eyes – a touching gaze, full of tenderness and love:
“Lino!” – He heard her tender voice. – “So I was wrong... so all I saw was your confusion, not your admiration for my father’s offer! So you really love me?”
And then the dialog between two loving hearts began... She thought that her father’s enticing offer had overshadowed his feelings... He assumed that Violetta’s interest had disappeared with the news of his imminent departure... She attributed his confusion from the inevitable parting to the unexpected generosity of Signor Grazza to help him become a famous artist and led her to believe that all the words of love were just a game and a pleasant adventure.... He assumed that it was ridiculous to selflessly love a rootless apprentice of a master...
“My Violetta! I thought for a long time... even if I don’t go to Venice and refuse your father’s generosity... what can I offer a girl like you???” – His voice reverberated in pain and despair. – “Look! Where are you, and where am I? And it’s not about money and status.” – He caught his breath and said very quietly. – “Now, I wouldn’t even be allowed to paint your portrait, my love! God willing, the day will come when I stand before your family and proudly say, ‘This is someone who is worthy of your love, my Violetta!’”
After these words, Violetta walked a few steps away from Lino and said just as quietly and gently:
“My Lino! You said you don’t have anything worthy of my love right now! But I have something worthy of yours...” – She loosened her gorgeous golden hair, slowly pulled the ribbon of her cloak... and the cloak fell to her feet...
Lino lost the gift of speech... Before him appeared the Goddess of Chastity and Purity in the Primordial, Innocent Nude... From the ambrosial beauty of this creature, the Moon seemed to burst into flames with Cosmic Silver, widely opened its eyes, and looked at magic that it, the Moon, had never seen.
Violetta was standing in the mist of a hot Night... The Moon threw transparent silver on the divine beauty of the ivory body of the young Goddess... The cascade of golden hair coquettishly tumbled over her shoulders and, as if on purpose, did not cover the beautiful tight maiden breasts, whose light pink nipples quivered restlessly... She humbly tilted her head to the side, covering the magical violet eyes with golden fluffy eyelashes... And her divine hands held two gerbera flowers and shamefully covered the “Magic Triangle,” which is first the Loins of Love, and then the Temple of Honor and Dignity of a loving man.
Before Lino was standing VIRGINITY ITSELF...
Lino was entranced, both by the magical sight and beauty, and by the willingness of the beautiful Violetta to sacrifice what can be sacrificed only once.
Rousing himself from the trance, Lino approached the beautiful girl, picked up her purple velvet cloak, carefully lifted it onto Violetta’s shoulders and wrapped the magical body of his beloved in it. She was still standing there with her eyes closed:
“Light of my life! Thank you, my dear, for believing in me! Even if I go blind, I’ll never forget what I saw today! I saw Love!”
“You refuse to accept my gift?” the girl whispered, still hiding her eyes.
“I refuse to take advantage of what I have to earn, my Love! This vision will stay with me forever! It will lift me off my knees every time life knocks me down!”
“I... want to give you something to remember...,” – whimpered the girl.
Lino approached the girl, gently lifted her chin, closed his eyes, and their lips merged in a trembling kiss. And the Moon covered its eyes to protect this Mystery, and so there weren’t any other witnesses...
The next day, at dawn, Master Signorelli and Lino departed. Violetta didn’t sleep a wink. When Lino turned around one last time to look back at the Villa Grazza, a gerbera flower fell to his feet. He knew it was one of those two flowers Violetta had been holding last night. After their departure, Signorina Violetta ran out into the hall and gasped – on their family portrait, the handle of the stiletto in her hand had been replaced by two gerbera flowers.
“Oh, you old joker, Master Signorelli!” – she heard the playful exclamation of Signor Grazza.
Signorina Violetta smiled broadly. She was quite satisfied with her father’s conclusion.
Time dragged on painfully slowly for Signorina Violetta. She could barely handle the longing for Lino. Every day her faithful servant Francheska brought two gerbera flowers, and at night the young girl talked with the flowers, imagining that Lino could hear her. The more she looked at these seemingly unpretentious flowers, the more convinced she became of their uniqueness – they did not in fact look like eyes, but like the gaze of human eyes. She talked with them and saw Lino’s eyes when she peered into them.
A few months later, Violetta received the first message from her beloved, a basket from Vittorio the Pharmacist. When she opened the lid, she found a candy box with her favorite pastries. There was no note, but at the bottom of the basket she found two dried gerbera flowers... Signorina Violetta had never eaten anything more delicious in her life. She couldn’t close her eyes and at night, as soon as the moon lit up the gazebo, she grabbed a basket and went down to the garden. In a reverie, she fed Lino pastries...closing her eyes and placing her beautiful face near the silver glow of the Moon, she revived her memory of the euphoria from her first kiss...laughing and crying, talking to her Lino. And toward morning, she went back to her room, hiding the dried gerbera flowers in the Bible.
A couple of months later, the young beauty got a note – “Where Dante was baptized.” She knew this place – the Baptistery, the Cathedral with a baptismal font large enough to accommodate an adult. All the distinguished natives of Florence had been baptized there, including Dante and Medici.
She didn’t go, she raced in hope of seeing Him. The whole way, she asked herself the same question, “What if it’s Lino?” But from behind the font, a young man came out to meet her and silently handed her a silk scarf. She took the scarf, and the young man quickly bowed and left. Violetta unfolded her scarf: Two gerbera flowers with blue disks were embroidered on it – they were Lino’s eyes; he was looking at her. When she came out of the Cathedral, she saw that young man standing in front of someone and silently moving his fingers. Deaf-mute, Violetta thought. She walked up to him, nodded a little and handed him a gold coin.
Soon came news that made the young girl’s heart beat in agitation: In the long war with the queen of the Adriatic, Venice, the Turkish Sultan Bayezid II had captured the port of Lepanto...
For two years since then, she had not heard from Lino. She was going mad with helplessness and longing, burying the secret love in the depths of her generous, devoted heart, unable to share it with anyone, even with Padre Lorenzo in confession. She couldn’t do any harm to her Lino. Her father and brothers could have forced her to marry after learning how she felt about a commoner. She waited patiently, believing that her Lino was alive and would show up soon, declaring that he was a famous artist.
However, there wasn’t a month when wooers wouldn’t come to them asking for beautiful Violetta’s hand and heart. But the young girl was highly indifferent both to the suitors and the idea of marriage itself. Over time, her indifference began to worry her father, Signor Grazza.
“Violetta, my child! I would like to talk to you, joy of my life...” – the indecisive tone, trembling voice and lowered eyes of her father, a man of strong will and principles, brought a smile to the young girl’s face.
“Father! I know what you’d like to talk to me about...”
“Believe me! Nothing in my life is more important than your personal happiness! God was so generous to me! You are a Gift of Heaven, with the Soul and the Face of an Angel!” – He took a deep breath and looked shyly into his daughter’s eyes.
“My dear father! I know it’s not easy for you to talk about what mothers and daughters usually discuss. You are always gentle and patient; your delicacy is the foundation of our boundless trust,” – she approached him, pressed herself against his chest and wrapped her lovely hands around her beloved father’s neck, – “You are my only and closest friend,” she whispered gently.
“My treasure, I’m afraid... I’m old and afraid I won’t see your children...” – she shuddered at her father’s words.
“Father, why didn’t you get married after mother died?”
His daughter’s unexpected question embarrassed Signor Grazza.
“The bed is warm as long as there’s Love! Not beauty, not youth or passion is the Source of this warmth. When your mother died, the world came crashing down on my head. But she left me with you, the only female being I can love.”
“So, my beloved father, I have taken after you! I can’t share a bed with someone I don’t love,” – she took her father’s hand and put her lips on it. – “Father! If Heaven desires...,” – she caught herself, smiled, and said, “Father! I promise you that you will be the first to know.”
That night, Violetta had nightmares. She woke up with a heavy head, with a strong sense that something bad had happened, clearly realizing that Lino was in trouble. Violetta suffered greatly from her helplessness and the lack of word from her beloved. Wringing her hands in anxiety, she paced from corner to corner, not knowing what to do. Despair had brought her to her knees; she prayed to God and called on the Mother of God to help her.
“Protect my loved one, Mother of God! Whatever may happen, just let my Lino be alive! You are the Mother of Universal Love, so protect my Love, I beg You!”
Tears of despair flowed from her beautiful violet eyes, her lovely lips whispering prayers unceasingly.
At the sudden knock on the door to her room, Signorina Violetta shuddered:
“Are you awake, my daughter?” – she heard her father’s voice. “Today, at breakfast, we were supposed to discuss tomorrow’s festivities, do you remember?”
“I’ll be down soon, father...”
Oh, my God! She had completely forgotten that tomorrow is the day to venerate St. Reparata, the patroness of Florence. Every year, they celebrated this day in a particularly solemn manner at the Villa of the Grazza family. Toward noon, Florentine residents sang songs and prayed as they walked to the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore. The city was filled with church bells. The Florentines carried a statue of St. Reparata, decorated with flowers and colorful ribbons. After the midday mass, the folk festivals began. The Grazza family were especially eager to participate in charity work. Every year, the Grazzas surprised the poor with their generosity; every year, their charity reflected thoughtful concern for the needy, and every year their kindness increased the respect and love of the inhabitants of Florence.
Signorina Violetta hastily cleaned herself up and went down for breakfast. Padre Lorenzo was sitting at the table, flipping through the papers attentively: He was invited every time on the eve of the festival. Among the many clergy of the church, no one could compare with him: The padre distinguished himself by his exceptional devotion to his congregation, his willingness to make sacrifices and his concern for ordinary people, which earned the full trust of the Grazza family when it came to charity.
“The venerable Grazza family never ceases to amaze me with their effort on behalf of ordinary people! The thoughtfulness of your decisions in improving the fate of an ordinary man is commendable and has been noticed by the All-seeing Eye of the Creator! You are a model of Christian virtue. The Lord says, ‘Blessed is he who is prayed for by at least one person.’ Believe me, the Florentines are praying for you with all their soul!”
“I haven’t forgotten those days, Padre Lorenzo, when a three-day-old stale piece of bread seemed to us like Manna from Heaven...”
“That’s exactly what makes you different from other wealthy citizens of Florence, Signor Grazza. If someone donates money in the name of their own prestige and for declarations of gratitude, it is a manifestation of pride. And the Grazza family does it for their own pleasure – it’s a way of life! Isn’t that true Christianity?”
“Virtue must be conscious because the meaning of this word is to act virtuously. And if virtue isn’t reinforced by responsibility; it loses its meaning, turning into evil.”
“Wise words, Signor Grazza. And Signorina Violetta deserves special praise!”
The young girl was genuinely surprised, and shrugged her shoulders, asking:
“And how did I make a difference and earn special praise, Padre Lorenzo?”
“You are the first Florentine woman, and so young at that, to open an art school for gifted children! The school is free; the only condition is the talent of the child! What else, if not that, deserves the highest praise, my daughter?”
“Padre Lorenzo! I had been dreaming about that for a long time, and I just invested money from the inheritance I received from my mother!”
“It’s not the money, my daughter! It’s about how much love and thoughtfulness you have put into the idea of creating this school! Both the students and instructors are the best! Look at the inspired faces of these simple, sometimes even beggar children deprived by fate! They are well fed and clothed! They live at school with their instructors! They’ll glorify your name, my daughter!”
“I hope you haven’t forgotten, padre, that the name of the founder of the school must be kept secret.”
“Absolutely, my daughter! That was your first condition!”
“By the way, tomorrow is the school’s first anniversary, and it will open its doors to all those who want to learn about the success of the children. Your whole family is invited!”
“Yes! I remember!” Signorina Violetta replied sadly. “How can I forget this date?”
It was the day of her and Lino’s last rendezvous... there, under the silver of the moonlight, when they swore eternal love to each other... She had needed to do something in the name of her Love; and she knew that Lino would be proud of her! In the eyes of these kids, she saw the reflection of her and Lino’s feelings; Love itself reigned in this world of art! The school was the first fruit of their Love... an incorporeal, pure, inspired fruit, just like their Love!
“By the way, honey! You promised me you’d reveal the secret behind the name for your School of Arts, remember? Why is it called ‘Two Gerbera Flowers’?” – Her father’s unexpected question took her by surprise. When she had collected her thoughts, she answered:
“People usually focus their attention on the most exquisite and exceptional, without noticing a small and sometimes simple creation of God! After randomly learning about a flower like the gerbera, I couldn’t help but appreciate the sophistication and colossal effort that the Creator had invested in this creation... as, incidentally, in everything else!”
“But why ‘two flowers’?”
“Father! A person is happy when their soul and body are in harmony, that is, inseparable. One flower is the Soul and the other is the Body! Let the Soul and Body of the school be inseparable!” – Having said this, she hastily excused herself and went to her room.
Crashing into her bed, she cried. She was tormented by her longing for Lino and anxiety, the unknown future and the impossibility of revealing her secret to anyone. She felt that her whole being was as tense as a bowstring. And if an arrow flies, her life will stop short right there...
A lot of people gathered to see the gifted children. It was very interesting for the members of the Grazza family to familiarize themselves with the work of the young artists and sculptors, dancers and poets. Finally, the time came to meet the students who were dedicating themselves to music. Prior to the young musicians’ performance, Padre Lorenzo spoke:
“In his ‘Divine Comedy’, the great Dante refers to one of the dogmas of the church – ‘If Nature is the Daughter of God, then Art is the Grandson of God! Talent is given to man by the Creator! And if you are grateful to Him for the gift, you can only thank God by work. Your true gratefulness will return to you again in the form of great success.”
The last performer at the concert of young talents was a charming 12-year-old girl with an Arab rebab in one hand and two gerbera flowers in the other. She carefully laid the flowers at her feet and started playing...
“Baby!” – Signor Grazza said to his daughter. “Why are you so pale?”
“I’m fine, father!”
As soon as the melody began, Signorina Violetta’s body trembled: It was the same melody that Lino personally played for them in the Loggia when he was recognized as the best musician – the melody with a slight Eastern accent...
The thunder of applause for the young girl roused Signorina Violetta from her trance. The girl bowed modestly, took the gerbera flowers and moved towards Violetta Grazza. After walking up to her, she said:
“Most beautiful Signorina Violetta! My Teacher asks you to accept these flowers as a token of immense respect for all those who gave us hope for the future! ‘Two gerbera flowers’ is our hope!”
Signorina Violetta took the flowers with trembling hands, and Signor Grazza exclaimed loudly:
“Why didn’t the Teacher bring these flowers to the signorina by himself?”
“He couldn’t; he’s almost blind...” – the girl uttered quietly. “I help him...”
When the figure of the Teacher appeared from behind the door with the young apprentice leading him to the stage by the hand, there was a thud – Signorina Violetta had fainted.