Alessandra shook her head and impulsively took both of Maxie's pretty hands in hers. "It's altogether impossible. But you must not think it has anything to do with you!"

Maxie buried her face in her hands. "I am too thin!"

"Not a bit of it! You're quite perfect-any man would love you. But, I don't know how to say this to you, Maxie...."

Mina came into the room then, her face lit by her candle. Alessandra thought she looked like an angel. "Then perhaps you should not say it."

Maxie ran to her. "Oh, Mamma!"

"Hush, child, and go to bed!" Mina kissed her elder daughter, gave her the candle, and sent her sniffling out the door.

Sitting down next to Alessandra on the bench in the firelight, Mina took Alessandra's cap off her head, tousled her curls, caressed her smooth cheek, and pulled the girl close to her. "Would you like to tell the truth to me?"

Alessandra's eyes welled up with tears. "I cannot!"

"Will you break poor Maxie's heart?"

Alessandra didn't want to ever have to leave the safety and comfort of this home and these arms. She felt so tired suddenly. She could feel the courage ebb out of her.

"My love of learning," she said, looking up into Mina's eyes, "has been the cause of a great deception."

"Cara mia," said Mina softly, using the feminine form of this endearment and-in those two small words-revealing that she knew the truth already. said Mina softly, using the feminine form of this endearment and-in those two small words-revealing that she knew the truth already.

Alessandra shifted her position so that her head was resting on Mina's shoulder. "Have you known for long?" she asked, barely able to muster the energy to speak. "Was it Bene who told you?"

"You told me yourself, my dear. Did you think I wouldn't find the soiled rags from your flux? Did it not worry you, being all alone and finding yourself bleeding?"

Alessandra sat up a little without leaving Mina's embrace. "I had read of it, and so it did not surprise me-although it made my insides ache, and still does." She sighed. "I am the elder girl, and my mother died before I could take notice of such things-and my nanny left before my flowering."

Mina was smiling down at her. "And what is your name, elder girl?"

Alessandra looked into Mina's eyes. They were filled with kind intention and a woman's wisdom such as she hadn't seen anywhere for a long time. She yearned to tell her name finally to another woman-and found that her heart was bursting with pride, because Mina would understand the enormity and the daring of what she'd done. "Alessandra," she murmured. And then, a little louder and more clearly, "Alessandra Giliani."

Mina took it in, pausing as if tasting something new. "It's a good name," she said, adding, "and one, I suspect, that will be long remembered."

"Do you think so?"

"Oh, yes," said Mina. "I am quite sure of it." She folded Alessandra in her arms again and held her tenderly.

As she allowed herself to relax into Mina's warm embrace, Alessandra experienced a floodtide of memories of her own mother. She thought how there are some things that cannot be learned in books or lectures but only in the experience of feeling them. In that sweet scent of a woman's flesh and the soft caress of firelight, she fell utterly-and quite to her own surprise-fast asleep.

Alessandra woke in her own bed without any memory of how she got there. When she ventured out to the kitchen, following the smell of fresh-baked bread, she was uncertain whether she would be greeted as herself or Sandro.

Maxie fled from the room as soon as she saw her. That still told her nothing. Mina was ladling polenta into bowls for Horabilli and her brothers. Otto wasn't there; nor was Bene. Mondino sat on the bench by the hearth, poring over a ma.n.u.script and writing notes on it. He looked up at Alessandra. "Good morning, Sandro," he said to her with his usual air of distraction. Mina met her eyes and smiled.

Her secret-and her safety-rested now with Bene, Otto, Maxie, and Mina-a veritable crowd of people who knew the truth about her. She wished that Bene was not in their number. He'd kept his promise so far-but she never ceased to fear that he would change his mind.

Alessandra dawdled in the kitchen that morning until she and Mina were alone. "Will Maxie forgive me?"

"Maxie will be inspired by you," said Mina, "as soon as she's had sufficient time to take it in. You've done her a service to teach her that romantic love is largely made of illusion."

"Is it?" Alessandra asked, unable to suppress a worried sigh.

Mina looked at her as if she knew exactly what Alessandra was thinking. "I said 'romantic love,' my dear-not true love."

"But how can one know," asked Alessandra, "one from the other?"

"True love," said Mina, "is something that reveals itself only with the pa.s.sage of time."

Fourteen

Pierina was beside herself with excitement at the prospect of Alessandra's visit home. So much had changed since she'd been sent away to that wretched convent-and so much more was about to change as well. Alessandra's visit home. So much had changed since she'd been sent away to that wretched convent-and so much more was about to change as well.

Pierina had always felt the sting of being the younger girl and not nearly as smart as Alessandra. Well, no one in the parish was as smart as Alessandra, save their father. It was quite a trial being her sister-although (Pierina told herself) who would want to be as weirdly smart as Alessandra? Certainly not Pierina, who was generally acknowledged to be the prettier of the two, with her lovely blond hair and blue eyes.

She felt a twinge of guilt as she thought about the pleasant hours she'd pa.s.sed in the company of her stepmother, joking and talking about Alessandra's freakishness.

Well, all would be well now, with this match their father had made for Alessandra with the first son of the great landowner of l.u.s.trola. He sounded just perfect for her sister-equally enamored of books and study, and bent on getting a medical degree. How perfect it would be for Alessandra, to be a doctor's wife! Their father said that he was a fine and well-made young man, too.

He couldn't possibly be, Pierina was quite sure, as fine and well made a man as her Giorgio. But, still, she was glad that Alessandra wasn't going to be stuck with some wretched old man three times her age.

She truly wanted her sister to be happy. No matter what their stepmother said, Alessandra-however odd she was-was every bit as much ent.i.tled as anyone to the pleasures of this life, which, G.o.d knew, was larded enough in sorrow to make a saint of each of us.

Pierina couldn't wait to see her sister and show off her lovely new b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and to tell her she'd begun her flowering, too. Maybe she'd even beat Alessandra to the punch. Their stepmother said Pierina was young to have started, and she had to be especially careful, as she could be got with child because of it.

She told this to Giorgio sometimes when they kissed and kissed, early mornings in the workshop, when no one else was there. Pierina repeated her stepmother's warning-but both she and Giorgio knew it was a good thing they'd be marrying soon.

Alessandra found Mina in the garden, gathering vegetables for their dinner. "Oh, please!" she said breathlessly. "I need your help, dear Mina."

Mina put down her basket, and brushed the dirt off her hands. They bent their heads close together while Alessandra whispered her instructions.

When Otto asked about Sandro at dinner, and whether anyone knew where he was, Mina said that he was in his room and had asked not to be disturbed. Mina nonetheless brought a tray of food to Sandro's door, knocked softly, and was admitted inside.

After the midday rest, shortly after Sandro left the house, Mina waylaid Otto before he returned to town. "I was asked to give this to you." It was a piece of parchment, folded and sealed with wax. Otto waited until he was well away from the house before he broke the seal-and noted, with annoyance at himself, that his hands were trembling as he read it.

She whom you would marry waits for you in the walled garden beneath the Torre Asinelli.Sandro Alessandra had let her hair grow out again in Bologna, having discovered during her first days there that many of the scholars-at least those who were not in holy orders and had enough hair to be vain about it-wore their tresses long.

The dress that she'd brought with her from Persiceto no longer fit-so she'd borrowed a gown from Mina, who had a comely shape and lovely clothes. Alessandra covered as much as she could of her hair and the gown with Sandro's winter cloak before leaving her room and heading for her secret little garden in the center of town.

The sun was low in the sky when she reached the gate that was missing its latch. The light was too low for reading, but perfect for the revelation she had in mind. She settled herself on the bench there, caught her breath, and waited for Otto.

"Surely your cloak is out of season," said Otto as he pushed the gate closed behind him. He looked at the eyes peeking out from beneath the hood of Sandro's cloak. They were golden with the light of the late-afternoon sun.

The hooded figure touched the bench. "Sit here!"

It took all of Otto's self-control to resist the urge to take her in his arms. He did as she commanded, and reveled in his knowledge of the lovely girl who was hidden there beneath the heavy clothes.

"Close your eyes, if you please!"

"Hmm-famous last words of the robber about to smash his victim over the head...." Otto shut his eyes, wincing slightly.

Alessandra found just the right spot to place herself. She flung the cloak away from her and whispered a prayer. "You can look now," she said, shaking out her curls.

The late-afternoon sun was behind her. What Otto saw was Alessandra outlined in gold. Alessandra as he'd never seen her before-as no one had ever seen her before-in all the ripeness of her young womanhood, as sweet and perfect as a golden pear that falls into your hand when you hold it underneath. The stem breaks as if by itself, because the golden fruit has reached the apogee of its perfection.

There are moments, now and again, when time itself seems to stop. This was one such moment. Otto and Alessandra saw each other as Adam and Eve must have seen each other in the Garden of Eden.

He walked closer to her, but it felt to both of them as if the s.p.a.ce between them was shrinking. He looked at her face and when he was close enough, held her by the upper arms. He thought what a fool he'd been to ever believe that this luscious girl was a boy. "You are truly Alessandra Giliani? I have not dreamt this moment? I will not wake?" are truly Alessandra Giliani? I have not dreamt this moment? I will not wake?"

They both stole a glance at the discarded cloak, which looked a bit like a person who'd expired there and then among the weeds.

"We'd better check to see if you're dreaming," she said. "Aristotle would definitely want us to." She disengaged herself and pinched his hand, hard enough to make him cry out, although he was laughing as he did so. "Have you woken up?" she asked him.

"Not yet," he answered, shaking his head. "There's another test, though, highly recommended by Aristotle." Leaning close, he softly kissed her neck and then her lips.

"I never ran across that work before in my father's library," she murmured, cognizant of the sudden change in her voice, which somehow seemed liquid now, as if the very words melted as they touched the air. She leaned in with her face tilted upward and found the kiss again.

Unlike the kisses that had come before, this one lasted a very long time. Alessandra and Otto both were dizzy and short of breath when they pushed a little away from each other-but only enough to be able to gaze at each other again.

"Marry me!" Otto's voice had a huskiness she'd never heard in it before. He said the words again: "Marry me, Alessandra!"

"I don't know," she whispered, his ear just next to her mouth. "I will not give up my studies. I will not let you-or anyone else-make me do so."

"I would not want you to!" he said, holding both her hands against his chest. "It would be like clipping the wings of a falcon."

"Ah, but falcons are dangerous birds!" She pressed her hands against him. "Your heart is beating fast, Otto."

"And yours?" He slipped his hand under her chemise.

"Oh!" she gasped. And then, with a medical student's interest, she noticed the bulge in his breeches. "Oh!" she said again.

"Darling girl," he laughed, "my blood is rioting. And we must marry-we must! Without delay."

They kissed again-a long, lingering, deliriously happy kiss.

Alessandra pushed him away and gulped the air. He took her hands in both of his, and brought them to his lips.

There was the oddest sensation in her hands then-and she looked at them, as if expecting to see them glowing with heavenly light. She remembered that day-so long ago now-that she had looked at her hands, just so, in her father's workshop. They were the hands of a woman now-and she knew their skill.

"As soon as we can, then, sweet Otto, we must look for a way to live together as man and wife."

Nicco ran across his father in the stables, just as Carlo was about to climb onto his horse.

"Good timing, Nic! Give your old man a leg up, will you?"

Nicco laced his fingers together and let Carlo step into the sling they made. "May I ride out with you, sir?" he said, wiping his hands on his breeches.

Carlo took a moment to consider this. And then he shook his head. "Stay here and look out for our women."

"Are you going away again?" Nicco eyed the well-packed saddlebags. "We might want to consult the planets first."

"I have already-and found no injunction against travel."

Nicco eyed his father warily. "You'll see Alessandra?"

"Not likely!" Carlo laughed. "I'm off to Bologna to meet her bridegroom."

"Wasn't that the sound of thunder?"

"Nonsense! You're as nervous as an old lady."

"Well, then," said Nicco, calculating how far he'd have to let his father get before he could overtake him undetected on the road. "Buon viaggio, Father! Make sure this l.u.s.trolano has all the parts he needs to give me a nephew!"

"I will-and I'm going to do my best to see he hurries up about it." He lowered his voice. "Pierina is giving me cause to think we'd better have this wedding soon."

"Good Lord-G.o.dspeed, then!"

"G.o.dspeed, my son! With luck, I'll clinch a wedding date before we meet again."

"If only it were possible!" Nicco said under his breath as his father disappeared in a wake of dust. Then he ran toward the house to pack himself a few supplies, scattering the chickens in his path.