SIX
Pasquale jostled past the doorman, disregarded the outstretched hand of the family’s gondolier, and jumped haphazardly into the boat, his gangly descent tipping the slim vessel precariously. His impatience erased all concern for formality, his irritation at his father dismissing any possibility of enjoyment in the leisurely method of travel forced upon the Venetians living along the Canalazzo.
“Faster, faster, no dawdling,” he barked at the man who propelled the gondola.
He poked at the morning’s event with a thin needle of regard and found a slim vein of satisfaction in his father’s reaction to his abrupt departure, the rage-mottled skin and snarling mouth; the man’s attempt to thwart him had failed and the frustration had been clear on the repugnant features. He wondered if the ol
