Re: Santa Maria Assunta

Antonia had come before to Santa Maria Assunta, to listen to the concert of the Assumption Eve and spend the vigil night there. Some years, she was with her late husband - be they married or even the year they were just engaged, as her father had trusted Simon, with good reason. Last year, she had brought Milan with her, as he was new around and she wanted to show him everything. This year... somebody had to be working, though... so he was the one getting the short straw, especially that Rocco had said that he wanted to go with his sister, and he hadn't had Ferragosto free in the latest years.

She hadn't been out of the city for a long time, and she needed both the artistic comforting of the concert and the spiritual one of the night of vigil and prayers. She was a little bit amused by Orsetta's enthusiasm, but she understood the young woman who had never been in the lagoon, being mostly kept inside a palace here or in the countryside somewhere in Friuli or elsewhere on the mainland in her childhood. It made sense that she was wondering about the beauties she had never seen, both nature made and human made, like the Cathedral in Torcello.

"I am glad that you had the opportunity to come with us, Orsetta," she replied kindly. "And it is true that their beauty is different, because these two churches have been made in different times. Torcello was a bishop's seat before Venice flourished."

She made the sign of the cross, entering the church.

"Have you went to confession recently? I have, early this morning, so there is no need for me to confess now," she commented, looking at the queue already forming to the confessional.
word count: 301

Re: Santa Maria Assunta

"And a rich man would be hard pressed to marry the cinder girl if her name is going to be forever tarnished by a mistake she made in the past," she murmured very quietly. Whether he caught the whisper or not was a moot point, for she no longer wished to speak on the matter, she was feeling as if her soul was being weighed down at that moment, between an obviously mutual attraction that she knew would probably never amount to anything, and the talk of passed on family members.

"I am sorry about your sister,"
she went on to say, wanting very much to wrap her arms around him and give him comfort for something that still sat with him strongly and would never truly go away. For her, it had been years since she looked at the face of her brother, Joseph. It had been painful to learn of his death and the death of his wife and child. The feeling of hurt would never leave, it would only dull over time..

As they entered the church, she remained quiet, immediately struck with the beauty of the interior and the crowd that had already started forming within. She had no idea on what to do, if she was supposed to drape the lace over her head, if she was supposed to stand in line... Et cetera... She had never seen the inside of a Cathedral until that moment, and was awe struck. In fact, she felt so very out of place in just the way people prayed and such in the Catholic religion.

Hesther looked at Francesco and said softly, "What do I do now, Francesco? With everything. I... am not Catholic. This is much different from what we do."
word count: 293

Re: Santa Maria Assunta

Francesco heard the comment, but he didn't feel like arguing with her about how the world was made. Usually the hard pressed meant an older man, mostly enticed by a good dowry. A man who hadn't been exempt of mistakes of his own, of various kinds, but his name sounded still well, and he could hide the young bride's mistake, to be known only by her parents and him. Which could mean also to be reproached back during fights… or… God forbid… He remembered his late brother-in-law, Niccolo Pisano, and he shivered. Poor Margareta, at least she found her happiness with Fernand, and that bastard had his comeuppance. He hoped no woman in this world would have to put up with an abusive husband, unfortunately he knew there were plenty in this world.

From one sister, the discussion passed to the other. And Anzola's death was still fresh, and difficult to deal with. He had been to Padre Agustin, and he had done the novena for the rest of Anzola's soul, and her unbaptized babies'. Then, suddenly Hesther seemed lost, and whispered to him the most unexpected confession. She was not Catholic! Maybe if he thought better, Francesco should have known. That priest who had been working as their cook for a while wasn't Catholic either, and he was English or American. He couldn't remember anymore, as the man found an opening to go to Africa to teach children there long before Beppin and his crew did. But he had never fathomed this about Hesther.

With tender gestures, looking into her eyes, he took the scarf and put it on her hair, tucking one of the ends over her shoulder, to be sure it stayed in place.

"I had no idea, I am sorry," he apologized. "Then I guess you might not want to confess to a priest. But you can pray, because God and Virgin Mary are everywhere, and She will surely hear you."

He showed her, actually, with a gesture, the bowl of the main apse, having a beautiful mosaic of the Virgin Mary, wrapped in precious garments and holding Jesus in her arms, whilst on a lower level the Apostles seemed to be watching them all.

word count: 379

Re: Santa Maria Assunta

Her breath caught in her throat as he placed the pretty lace over her head and draped it just so, her eyes somewhat guarded but the biting of her lip giving away the effects he had on her. She closed her eyes and swallowed back anything that wasn't relevant to why they were there, and she whispered a soft thank you before forcing herself not to look at his face. She was in trouble... She was quite taken by the young man and she needed to block that out.

"I should have told you before, I just... Didn't think. I am sorry." She took a step back and pivoted to watch the procession, not knowing where to go from there. There were so very many people filling the cathedral; people who were all complete strangers to her and doing what they probably normally did each year. She watched as a pretty woman walked passed (Antonia) and bit her lip, moving slightly to the side so as not to be in the way when the people passed.

Her trepidation turned into curiosity, and her gaze began to wander again, drinking thirstily of the sights while the sounds of the crowd filled her ears. She moved onto her toes every now and then and lifted her head high as she observed.

word count: 222
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