Marco shook his head, trying to clear it. 'Um. So what are you doing here?'
'Same as you. Old man Ventuccio gave us a half holiday because he's got a grandson to carry on the family name, in case you forgot. Only I didn't come in by the door, and I didn't drop in to see a friend at the Accademia.' Benito grinned impishly. 'Thought I'd catch up on my sleep 'cause I got things to do tonight.'
'Oh.' Marco paused. 'What about Maria?'
Benito look a little uncomfortable. 'She's gone on a long trip out to Murano. Got some more glassware for that ceremonial galley to fetch. You know what Maria's like. They trust her. When she's away is a good time for us to stay away, brother. Aldanto . . . entertains visitors.'
Marco swallowed. 'More?' he asked in a small voice.
Benito nodded. 'Couple or two or three. There's Signora Selmi. Her husband is one of the captains in the galley fleet. And there's this one I don't know. Little prisms-and-prunes mouth with a mole on her left cheek. She's wild. Doesn't come often but when she does . . . we even had old Camipini coming over later to complain about the noise--when Maria was home. Lord and Saints! I thought the fat was in the fire then!'
Marco felt as if he might faint. Benito had said that Caesare played the field with women. But . . . 'Do you think I should warn Angelina?' he asked quietly, his loyalties torn.
Benito snorted. 'Marco, big brother, Grandpapa was right. You do need someone to look after you. Like me. Now listen good. Your precious Angelina is a wild girl. She's trouble, Marco. That's a bad crowd she runs with, and I don't think Caesare is her first time either. You just leave her to Caesare. He knows how to deal with girls like that. You don't.'
Marco stood up, biting his lip. Then, nodded. 'You're right, brother. This time, anyway. I need to go out. I'll see you.'
Benito stood up too, stretching. 'I'll tag along for company. I think we ought to leave quietly by the window. We can go and see Claudia and Valentina. Unless you'd rather go looking for that dream girl of yours?'
Marco wanted to be alone, but Benito obviously had no intention of letting him be. 'At least my dream girl is not like that,' he said quietly.
Benito muttered something. Marco didn't quite catch it, and didn't want to ask him to repeat it. But it could have been 'In your dreams, brother.' Instead he swung out of the window heading for the ornamental casement Benito always said was like a ladder. A slippery ladder that the city's pigeons used for other purposes, in Marco's opinion. Once they were away up on a roof, overlooking the canal, Benito leaned back against the chimney stack. 'Right, brother. What am I looking for again? Let's hear the lyrical description.'
Marco panted. 'Stop teasing me.'
Benito grinned impishly. 'Oh, that's right. I remember now. Amazing what even I can remember when I've only heard it three thousand times. 'She has curly red-carroty hair. She has a generous mouth, a tip-tilted nose-- merry eyes, wonderful hazel eyes.' And she's your soul mate. You knew the minute your eyes met.'
'You're a cynic, little brother.'
'At least I'm not a fool.'
Benito regretted it the moment he'd said it. He found that look of Marco's one of the hardest things to deal with. That clear look that seemed to see right into you. He squirmed slightly under the gaze. Marco didn't even seem to be aware that he was doing it. After a while, as if from a distance, Marco said: 'It's good to be a fool sometimes, Benito. And you will be too, one day.'
'Yeah. When hell freezes over, Marco,' said Benito, feeling uncomfortable. 'Come on, let's go down. I got a tip today and my pocket'll run to a couple of toresani. Or maybe some Muset and beans.'
Marco sighed, but stood up. 'Do you ever think of anything but food, brother?'
'Do you ever think of anything but girls?' It was an unfair comment, and Benito knew it. He was starting to think quite a lot about girls himself, nowadays. And Marco thought, if anything, about too much. He cared for the whole world, especially sick canal-brats. Benito . . . well he cared for his brother Marco. And . . . well . . . Maria. He'd like to earn her respect sometime. And Caesare. He owed them.
Chapter 44 ==========
Katerina Montescue was in a foul mood. It was all very well forming an instant rapport with someone across a crowded canal. But . . .
She'd always thought that if she ever married, she'd have to marry money. Then she'd seen him. Establishing who he was had proved easy enough. At least three people had asked her if she'd seen him, when they'd been looking for him. She'd been rather frightened to discover just how many of the canal boatmen knew her.
