nearby villa where someone is perhaps improvising on the theme of the fo liar
After speaking thus, Melani moved on. On each of the long sides of the gallery there were seven windows. From the central ones, one could go out onto two balconies facing the opposite sides of the garden, east and west.
We turned instead to the opposite end of the gallery, facing south, in the direction of the road. The gallery ended in a semicircular loggia whose external facade was articulated by great arched windows. Moving even further, on a projecting platform which rested on the outer wall giving onto the street, there was a fountain. It took the form of two sirens lifting a sphere from which spurted a high jet of water. While enjoying that vision, the eye turned back and there, painted alfresco on the arch of the loggia, was a representation of Happiness, surrounded by its retinue of all the Blessings. The humble plashing of the fountain, careless of its own solitude, dispensed its sweet whisperings to the whole of the first floor. In the side fagades of that first floor, on the wall of the balconies, there were two other artificial springs (one of which I had already heard from the front courtyard below) which, together with the larger and more beautiful one under the loggia formed a lovely magic triangle of murmuring waters, filling the whole gallery with their music.
'Look!' I suddenly exclaimed.
On the panels of the door leading to one of the two loggias with fountains was the whole of Capitor's sonnet on fortune: FORTVNE
Friend, look well upon this figure,
Et in arcano mentis reponatur,
Ut magnus inde fructus extrahatur, Inquiring well into its nature…
'Here is the first clue!' exclaimed the Abbot triumphantly.
'Perhaps Capitor's three gifts which we seek are not far from here,' I ventured.
We kept looking all around us. We saw that the semicircular loggia too, as well as the window openings and shutters, were covered in proverbs and sayings. One caught my eye.
''From the private hatreds of the great spring the miseries of the people',' I read aloud.
Atto looked at me in some surprise. Was that not just what he was teaching me with his tale of the Sun King's misfortune in love, which had ended up by turning into a force of destruction?
'Look,' said he suddenly, in a voice stifled by surprise.
Fascinated until that moment by the frescoes, the proverbs, the displays of arms and by the round loggia with its fountain, we at last turned our gaze to the other end of the gallery, facing north.
Despite all the time that has passed since then and the seemingly endless series of unusual experiences, I still recall the vertigo that overcame me.
The gallery was endless. Its two converging sides stretched out to infinity, it was almost as though my eyeballs had been torn from their sockets and projected helplessly into that abyss. Overcome by the unbearable dazzle of the light from outside, I saw the walls of the gallery melt into the displays of arms, the frescoes of the ceiling and, lastly, into the potent, solemn, fearful image outlined against the horizon, framed by the glass window as in a hunter's gun-sights: the Vatican Hill.
'Bravo, bravo Benedetti,' commented Atto.
It took us a few minutes to realise what had happened. The northern end of the gallery consisted of a wall in which was set a window which gave onto a quadrangular loggia. The wall around the glass had been hung with mirrors which replicated and prolonged the gallery, making it appear endless. But that happened if the observation point was far enough away and equally distant from the two long sides: then and only then. In the middle of the wall, and thus at the point where the perspective of that architectural tunnel converged, the vista of the Vatican palaces was right at the centre of the frame; it was enough to approach that great window to include in the panorama the cupola of St Peter's Basilica.
So the prow of that ship-shaped villa pointed directly towards the seat of the papacy. It was not clear whether the coincidence was a sign of virtuosity or, rather, a threat.
'I do not understand. It seems to be aiming the barrel of a cannon, almost as though we could fire at the Vatican palaces,' I commented. 'You knew Benedetti. In your opinion, was it or was it not a matter of chance that the Vessel was thus oriented?'
'I'd say that…'
He broke off. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps could be heard in the garden. Atto did not wish to give the impression that he was alarmed, yet, forgetting what he was about to say, he began to pace up and down nervously.
We explored the rooms giving onto the gallery, which were four in all. First, there was a little chapel, then a bath chamber. Above the entrance of the first was written ' Hic anima ' and above the second, 'Hie corpus'.
''Here is for the soul' and 'here is for the body',' translated Atto. 'What a witty fellow!'
The bath chamber was most richly furnished and decorated with stuccoes and majolica tiles. It contained two baths. In each, the water was dispensed by two taps, above one of which was written ' calida ' while above the other was inscribed ' frigida'.
'Hot and cold water, on demand,' Atto commented. 'Incredible. Not even the King enjoys such conveniences.'
We again heard a pronounced crunching of gravel outside. The footsteps sounded more hurried than before.
'Do you really not wish to go out and see whether the two… Well.. whether there's someone outside.'
'Of course I want to,' he replied. 'First, however, I intend to finish exploring this floor. If we find nothing interesting here, we shall move on to the floor above.'
As was easily foreseeable, the chapel too was decorated with dozens and dozens of holy maxims, from the walls to the shutters of the windows. Atto read one at random.
''Ieunium arma contra diabolum' 'Fasting is a weapon against the Devil'. We should remind all those eminences stuffing themselves at the home of Cardinal Spada of that one.'
The two remaining rooms were dedicated to the papacy and to France respectively: a little chamber with portraits of all the pontiffs and another with effigies of the kings of France and of Queen Christina of Sweden. Above the two doorways, two inscriptions: ' LITERA ' for the popes, ' ET ARMA ' for the kings.
'To popes the care of the spirit, to kings the defence of the state,' explained Atto; 'Benedetti was certainly no friend of the temporal power of the Church,' he guffawed.
In the little chamber dedicated to France, two splendid tapestries of bucolic scenes hung on the walls, which captured Abbot Melani's attention no less. The first depicted a shepherdess, with a satyr in the background attempting to abduct another one, dragging her by the hair, but failing because the maiden wore hair which was not her own. In the second tapestry, a young man with bow and arrow leaned over a nymph wounded in her side and attired in a wolf's skin, the whole enclosed in a floral frame punctuated with scrolls and medallions in relief.
'There are Corisca and Amarillis, and here is Dorinda wounded: these are two scenes from The Faithful Shepherd, the celebrated pastoral tragicomedy by the Cavaliere Guarini which for over a century has enjoyed such success in all the courts of Christendom,' he recited with satisfaction. 'Admire, my boy, these are without question two of the finest tapestries from the French manufactories. They come from the Faubourg Saint-Germain, admirably woven by the skilled hands of Van der Plancken — or de la Planche, if you prefer,' he specified, speaking with all the mannerisms of an expert. 'I persuaded Elpidio Benedetti to purchase these when I came from France some thirty years ago.'
'They are truly beautiful,' I assented.
'Originally, these were part of a set of four but, at my suggestion, Benedetti brought two of them to the Palazzo Colonna as a gift for Maria Mancini, who was then in Rome. Only I knew how much she would appreciate them. When I returned to Rome, I found that she had hung them in her bedchamber, just in front of her writing desk. She always loved risk: she kept them for years under her husband's nose and he never noticed a thing!' said he, sniggering.
'The husband did not notice that the tapestries had been hung?' I asked, not having understood.
'No, no, I do not mean that he never discovered them… Come, forget it,' replied Atto, becoming suddenly evasive.
