We traveled for three days, mostly on the road south originally built by the Romans in the time of Augustus Caesar. Once we were past Padua, broad yellow fields opened up on either side of us. Farmers were cutting the tall hay, the sun reflecting off their scythes. Women with kerchiefs round their heads and baskets on their backs walked alongside the road. The baskets were filled with cucumbers, tomatoes, and ears of corn. The sky was a radiant blue, cloudless, almost painful to stare at.
With Adriana beside me, I felt at peace with myself for the first time in a while. Though she tried to remain cheerful, I could see she was preoccupied, anxious about the reception she would receive in Modena, wondering if she would be received at all. I really did have a plan. It was quite simple, really, and rather ingenious—or so I told myself. If her request to see the Duke was rebuffed by his retainers, I would, without mentioning Adriana, present myself at his palace alone and tell them that I would be pleased to give a recital, at the Duke’s pleasure, to honor his love of music. I had learned of the latter by making a few inquiries before we left Venice. Albinoni and the violinist Coletti had performed at his court, and the Duke himself played the clavichord and fancied himself to be rather proficient. I was not being immodest when I thought there was a good chance my reputation might have preceded me as far south as Modena. I really had gained a good measure of fame in Vienna, and throughout Austria and Bavaria, and as Herr Hoyer often told me, I was not only the foremost clarinet soloist in Europe, and a prodigy, but was also a pioneer of sorts on the instrument. Should I require it, I also had a letter from Herr Hoyer to the musical director at San Angelo in Venice. I was supposed to deliver this letter in person, but I had held on to it in case I was asked for a formal reference. At any rate, if, as I expected, the Duke invited me to perform for him, I would take Adriana along and at the appropriate moment introduce her to him. It might be awkward at first, but I hoped that, seeing her face to face, he would be more receptive to her than his silence with regard to her letters might indicate. At any rate, she would be able to address him directly. I couldn’t extend my planning beyond that point.
Of course, all of this entailed my getting into the Duke’s good graces, and that meant entertaining him properly with my clarinet. When I told Massimo that I had no regrets about the clarinet’s having been restored to its original state, I was telling the truth, for all the reasons I had first given him. But on the day he acquiesced to my request, I had no idea I might be giving a recital on which Adriana’s happiness hinged. The timing was unfortunate. I knew the first performance I gave after the clarinet was altered was going to be a challenge. The closer we got to Modena, the more I asked myself why it had to be this one, putting that much more pressure on me. All my bravado to Adriana about making things right suddenly rang hollow to me.
As if reading my mind, she took hold of my arm at that moment and rested her head on my shoulder. “Everything is going to be all right,” she said. “It’s not going to do any good for me to fret about it.”
Nor I, I thought, and a few minutes later she had drifted off to sleep.