ladies. To the guests' utter astonishment, when the smoke cleared, we saw in the place of Satan a noble angel, with shining wings and immaculate vestments, while at the four corners of the float joyful flames appeared, illuminating the victory of light over darkness; which everyone commented upon with great pleasure amidst great and general applause.
In every corner of the garden, then, including the most recondite, the Catherine wheels lit up: spirals of yellow, pink, violet and the colour of lightning, hanging from trees, hedges and the boundary wall, spitting fire everywhere and transforming the scene (except for those parts set aside for the guests) into an infernal forest, racked by Vulcan's darts. Hammering salvoes of firecrackers deafened the company and filled the air with acrid, stinging smoke, so that the eyes of many were filled with tears. At the same time, rockets were again launched, filling the sky with multicoloured flashes, so that all around us seemed to be a circle of hell from whose burning talons Atto and I, standing one beside the other like Dante and Virgil, miraculously escaped only by the will of the author who had brought us there.
The deluge of fire and lightning, although breathtaking, was not without consequences. A spark from a Catherine wheel set fire to the periwig of Count Antonio Maria Fede, a resident of the Duchy of Tuscany. We all heard the Count's cries of horrified surprise and his impassioned complaints to Don Paschatio. The Major-Domo sent at once for the head of the artificers who, however (or so his acolytes said), had had to absent himself owing to a prior engagement.
'So Count Arselick almost caught fire,' commented Atto with a happy grin, his fun spoiled only by the wait for Albani's arrival.
'I beg your pardon?'
'That's Count Fede's nickname, for 'tis said that he made his career licking the arse of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, and later that of His Holiness. He did not deign to greet me because he knows that in April the Most Serene Republic of Venice granted me the status of Patrician, so that now we are both nobles, only he began life as a porter, and I did not, heh!'
There was not much cause for laughter, I thought to myself, for Atto too had been born poor: he was the son of a humble bell-ringer at the cathedral of Pistoia, as I remember learning many years ago, at the time when we met. It was no accident that, of the seven brothers, no fewer than four were destined for castration by their father, in the hope of replenishing the family's coffers.
'Oh!' exclaimed the Abbot at that moment, 'what a pleasant surprise!'
An elegant and rather stiff gentleman was moving towards Atto, accompanied by his fine lady and a servant.
''Tis Niccolo Erizzo, Ambassador of the Republic of Venice,' Melani whispered to me before going to exchange greetings.
'Prince Vaini has just been seen running like mad from a little wood,' Erizzo announced with a wink after the ritual salutations. 'He was amusing himself there in the bushes with a beautiful lady, married to a marchese whose name we unfortunately don't know.'
'Ah yes, and what were the two conversing about amidst all that verdure?'
'That, I leave to your imagination. Suddenly a giant Catherine wheel lit up and Vaini was so scared that he was almost reduced to ashes.'
'Vaini the vain reduced to ashes or to… vanilla?' Atto replied, causing all three to burst out laughing. 'Oh, please do excuse me, here is an old friend…'
I understood the subterfuge at once. Pretending that he had seen some other influential personage, he took his leave of the couple, who were already joining others. From behind a bush, Sfasciamonti had been gesturing to him. They spoke briefly, whereupon Atto turned back and came to fetch me.
'Sfasciamonti has obtained that information,' said he, passing me a piece of paper.
I opened it at once and read.
Nicola Zabaglia.
Saint Peter's Factory. Head of the School.
'There can be no question of this, Signor Atto. I am telling you for the last time.'
Abbot Melani said nothing.
'Do you know Saint Peter's? Have you been there?'
'Of course I have been there, but…'
'Then you will know that the undertaking you propose is utterly insane!' I exclaimed, quite beside myself.
We met again at a late hour in Atto's apartments, when the smoke from the fireworks had cleared and the guests were busy feasting in the Turkish pavilions.
'Albani did not put in an appearance,' the Abbot began, with his mien somewhat restored. After that, we discussed the information obtained from the catchpoll.
'There is no point in insisting, Signor Atto, you will never succeed in convincing me.'
Thus far, I had resisted his insistent pleas with success. Then, however, came the argument I feared.
'Even if you will not do it for me, if I were in your place I'd do it for my daughters.'
'Our agreement laid down explicitly that I was not to risk my skin.'
'But that you would do all that was possible to favour my interests.'
'And how about you?' I retorted. 'The festivities are over: tell me when you intend to keep your promises. Where is my daughters' dowry? Let us hear that!'
'I have already instructed a Capitoline notary,' Abbot Melani answered tersely. 'He is drawing up the deeds. We shall go and see him the day after tomorrow.'
A smile of embarrassment and relief escaped me.
'If you respect our agreement,' he added icily.
I felt cornered. Here was a veiled threat that he would not pay the dowries if I refused to do what he asked of me.
'I do not understand,' I murmured disconsolately. 'What makes you think they are in that place? Just because we now know that this friend of the cerretani, this fellow called Zabaglia, is employed by Saint Peter's Factory.'
Atto explained. I had to admit that the idea made sense. I did not argue the point; and that was a sign of my giving in.
'In any case, I shall not be able to accompany you,' Atto concluded.
'And why not? The treatise on the Secrets of the Conclave is yours, it is you above all who…'
'This will call for agility, swift reflexes, the ability to hide promptly,' said he with a rather hoarse voice.
Without saying it, he had nevertheless said it: for an undertaking such as that which he was proposing, Atto was simply too old.
'Then I shall go with Sfasciamonti,' said I resignedly.
Atto thought for a moment.
'Take Buvat with you, too. And above all, take these.'
'I had already thought of that, Signor Atto,' said I, taking from his hands Ugonio's heavy, jangling bunch of keys.
We departed not long before daybreak to minimise the risk of being seen by guards or catchpolls of any sort. Abbot Melani had told Sfasciamonti and Buvat that they were to climb up high, but without specifying how high.
The Sacred Ball: as we moved away from Villa Spada, I laughed to myself at that rather clumsy name used by the corpisantari and the cerretani. It was, however, a name which, once one knew the object to which it referred, turned out to be quite accurate. There were many tales about that ball and even I had heard some of them, since it was famed for being almost impossible of access, and brave was he who made it that far.
The undertaking was absurd. But for that very reason, I knew that I should need all the courage I could muster. Not only must I prove bold and reckless like Abbot Melani, I must feel myself so to be. Like Saint George, a dragon stood before me, which I must slay. The fear that might prevent me, however, lay within me. The most redoubtable adversary sleeps between our two ears.
I could already hear my lovely Cloridia's voice when the time would come to tell her of this venture, and she would interrogate me about all that had taken place, pulling me to pieces with her steely logic, forcing me to tell of
