In Emerald 's letter, Chiara's biological mother, Amelia, whom she had never met, was a Mantova girl known for her beauty and rebelliousness. After Emerald became Vittorio's mistress, the Catanet family gained a lot of money. The male many in the family received the priesthood and the whole family gained prestige in Mantova. At the age of fourteen, Amelia was engaged to a member of the Sforza family of the Duke of Milan.
"But it seemed that she was not very satisfied with the marriage. And when she was sixteen, when the family asked her to perform the marriage, she knocked out her maid, packed her dresses and some clothes, and ran all the way from Mantova to Rome."
When Chiara read this, she really began to be curious about the unknown lady.
Although women in this era can't choose their own marriage, their status is equal to that of men. So even if a couple has a lover after marriage, it is acceptable. There are very few girls escaping away from home to pursue her true love at that time. After all, people are open about marriage. Nobody will disturb and blame the relationships after marriage.There is no need to break with the family to chase true love.
"Amelia is very headstrong. Chiara, you are not like her. You must not be like her." After learning that Chiara knew the identity of her own mother and decided to visit her in Florence, Amanda began to educate Chiara on the behavior of an aristocratic lady.
Listening to Amanda 's nagging, Chiara folded the letter back along the crease and tucked it into a half-opened Decameron. She glanced back at Amanda. Making sure that Amanda had not noticed the book in her hand, she placed the Decameron under Plato's Phaedrus again .
Boccaccio was not very polite about the Vatican in his book, so Amanda had always forbidden them to read.
It was midday, the hottest time of the day, and the sound of the summer cicadas roaring in the oleander trees in the courtyard was enough to put one to sleep, let alone Amanda 's voice.
"I hear that after she left Rome she went to Florence, married a banker, and had a son." Amanda said, "But no matter how rich she is, the Katane family will no longer recognize her. She may never return to Mantova again in her lifetime."
Chiara packed up the books on her desk, picked up two glasses of red wine on the rocks that the maid had just brought her, and walked slowly to the bench against which Amanda was leaning.
She decided to end this "noble lady behavioral education" by using the method of feeding.
She offered Amanda a glass of wine and waved it with her other hand, listening to the ice hitting the glass, then changed the subject with a smile: "I was taken to my father's study by Colao this morning. I haven't seen Dario since. Is he better now?"
Perhaps because of the heat, after a glass of wine, Amanda felt that the anger in her heart had dissipated. She looked up at Chiara, who, looks like Amelia, with fair blond hair, fair skin, and a delicate face. But she is fundamentally different from Amelia.
This girl was taught by her personally. And since she was a child, her is quiet and wise. She is the most valued by the elders among the children.
Thinking that, Amanda felt a little relieved. But with Chiara's words reminded her of Dario , who had been in bed for days. "Not only is he not better, he's been screaming about riding all day."
"It seems Dario 's latest hobby has become horseback riding again." Chiara smiled and said, "I'll go and see him."
In addition to Chiara, Emerald and Vittorio had four children: Sergio, their eldest son, Dario , Lucresia, and Alfredo, who just turned seven.
Sergio was only a year younger than Chiara. He is a serious young man who hardly bothered anyone. Except that Emerald would sometimes complain that her eldest son had never rely on her like other kid.
While Sergio has been too independent since his childhood, his three younger brothers and sisters are too spoiled.
Dario is reckless and loves all the latest gadgets. Antonella is arrogant. The two children almost fight each time they meet. Due to the careful education of the knowledgeable Amanda, the content of the quarrel between the two people, up to the astrological signs, down to the street rumors. Chiara, who has always admitted to a lack of vocabulary, only widened her eyes and gave a warm applause in response to this wonderful debate.
But reality did not allow her to be a mere debate listener.
After the two had quarreled, they would run up to her, both of them pulling at her sleeve and asking, "Chiara, who do you think is right?"
Chiara began. "I think you all have a point..."
She swore she was speaking from the bottom of her heart.
Two people: "No! Everything is black and white, and one of us must be wrong and one of us must be right!"
Chiara: "..."
At this moment, Chiara feels that if God gave her another chance, she would never scold the referee of the World Cup final again.
And Alfredo was no longer a easy kid to coax when he was about to learn to stagger.
He loved to cry. Even when he almost could not breathe, he would cry with stutter and mumble: "Sister... Sister..."
Chiara, who was only seven years old at the time, had held him in her bed all night to get him to sleep, and when she got up the next morning, her arms were so numb that she could hardly lift them.
She didn't know if the life of the people of medieval Rome were bitter, but she thought she was.
Last week, Dario began his first horse-riding course. The riding teacher knew his reckless temperament, selected a gentle subadult pony for him on purpose. He had laboured through the stirrups to climb into the saddle, and was still very unfamiliar with the REINS and whip. But he saw Sergio, his elder brother, galloping across the field. The unyielding boy frowned and clenched his teeth, raising his right hand and striking his whip hard against the hip of the horse.
Then he lay in his own bed for a week.
"The riding teacher did it on purpose!" Lying on the bed, Dario drank a glass of wine with ice while dressed by the maid, and said bitterly, "He just deliberately wanted me to embarrass myself in front of Sergio , so he chose the most bad-tempered horse for me! When my leg healed, I must ask my father to drive him away... Noooo! I'll throw him into the Tiber and feed him to the fish!"
He spoke in such a fierce tone and with such intensity that he choked on the unswallowed wine and began to cough violently.
It's not the first time Dario has choked. He choked on breast milk as a baby, milk as a child, and wine every day as he grew up.
Chiara, accustomed to it, sat in a wooden Dante's chair in front of his bed, lounging back. Chiara did not worry at the sound of his gut-wrenching cough, but bent her head over the ancient Greek history book she had brought from her room.
At the end of the Peloponnesian War, in a temple in Athens, the head of the idol of Apollo was destroyed, and the perpetrator has not yet been found.
Dario was able to stop his wheezing with the help of his maid. Dario wiped the tears from his eyes with one hand, turned to look at her and said somewhat aggrieved, "Chiara, have you come to see me or to read!"
Chiara raised her eyes at him and smiled. "I'm here to read." She waved the book in Dario's face. "Amanda probably doesn't want to see you right now, so I can read it here."
Dario stared at her for a few minutes, then snorted through his nose. "I see. You love Sergio and Lucresia more. You don't love me at all."
Chiara did not know why she was experiencing this kind of death question, similar to "Lucresia and I fell into the Tiber River at the same time, which one would you save first?"
She closed the book, took the book in one hand, walked to the bed, stepped across the Roman scroll and sat beside Dario .
Dario was about to twist his back to her when he touched his injured leg and let out a breath of pain. Chiara rubbed his curly brown hair and said, "Dario,and you're so childish."
"You know, I'm still a child." Dario said sulkily.
Chiara smiled. "But last time I went to Father's palace, I heard you clapping your chest to your father and swearing that you were old enough to learn to ride."
Dario : "..."
He used everything he had learned in speech class in his argument with Lucresia, but he couldn't get a word out of Chiara's occasional joke.
"If you don't turn around and look at me, you won't have the second chance." Chiara said.
Dario immediately turned his head and stared at her. "Why?! Does Dad want you to get married with someone? "
When Chiara heard these words, the corner of her mouth twitched involuntarily. She told herself again and again in her mind that Dario was still a child of twelve years old. She calmed herself and gave Dario a gentle tap on his head. Then she got up from the bed and said, "I am going to Florence in a few days."
"To Florence for what? Will Father marry you to the Medici family?"
Chiara: "..." He's just a kid.
Chialam: "Not really."
"No? " Dario scratched his head. "Is it the Patsy family? That can't be true... Their family has fallen under the oppression of the Medici family, and Father will not marry you into the Pazzi family..."
Chiara: "..." He's just a kid.
"I will go to my father and protest that Chiara must not marry into the Pazzi family!"
Chiara: "..." It doesn't matter even if he's still a kid.
She knocked the Decameron on Dario 's head and said, "Lucresia is right, sometimes I really can't listen to you for more than three sentences, or I will feel the urge to hit you."
...
Late in the evening, Chiara came out of Dario 's room with her book in her arms.
At this time, Rome's summer heat with the horizon orange sunset together, began today's curtain call ceremony. And Chiara, who survives only on chilled wine during the day, finally gets some respite from the searing temperatures. Under the Corinthian columns of the courtyard cloister hung several brass chandeliers, on which a flame had been kindled, and the brilliant color of the firelight mingled with the sunset, reflecting the clusters of field beauties under the steps.
As she walked slowly down the steps, she saw behind the poppy bushes a corner of an ivory-white shirt.
She stopped, glanced behind the flowers, then smiled and said, "Alfredo, I saw you."
At the sound of her voice, seven-year-old Alfredo poked his head out from behind the flowers and walked slowly over to Chiara.
He had the same dark brown curls as Dario , but his eyes did not have Dario 's insolent wildness. He looked up at Chiara, his eyes began to escape again, and at last he said only, "Chia."
Unlike his other siblings, he likes to call her Chia.
"Did you come to see Dario ?" Chiara looked around at Dario 's room. "He seems sleepy."
"No..." Alfredo's right hand unconsciously tugged at the corner of his coat, and he turned to look at the sun slowly sinking behind the roof, then whispered, "Sister... Will u fly tonight?"
Chiara's smile faded a little when he finished the words. So she bent down, looked at Alfredo and said, "What do you see?"
Geoffrey was flustered by her seriousness. His right hand clutched the corner of his coat and he said, "I, I saw u flying over the roof last night."
Chiara smiled as he spoke. She straightened up and rubbed the curls on the top of Alfredo's head.
"It seems that our Alfredo had a very interesting dream last night." "No one can fly, neither can I," Chiara said softly, trying to calm the uneasy Alfredo.