Jó, said the interpreter’s lover in Hungarian, pointing through the window and gave a fleeting smile at the falling snow outside by way of farewell before she winced with pain and touching her bruised eye, rose, went over to the burners and quickly stirred the food in the two pans — and with this the whole snow event ended as far as she was concerned, for from that moment not only did she not move from the burner but did not even glance at the window to see how the weather was doing, whether the snow was still falling or had stopped, nothing, not a movement, not even a glance to show that what had so plainly filled her with joy just now had anything to do with her, so Korin was forced to abandon the hope he had glimpsed in her face, the hope that had found solace in the peacefulness of falling snow, or, more precisely, the hope that this solace might find visible expression, in other words he himself snapped back into the old routine and continued as he would have done, though not quite from the same place in the story, for the carriage had reached Cittadella already, and after a short rest moved on toward Padua, Mastemann apparently overcome by sleep and Falke and Kasser too dropping off, so that only Bengazza and Toót were still in conversation, saying that of all possible modes of defense water was clearly the best and that’s why nothing could be safer than building an entire town on water rather than anywhere else, or so Toót proclaimed, and went on to say that, as far as he was concerned, he desired nothing better than a place where the defense arrangements, defense viewpoint, said Korin in English, were so thorough, the whole conversation having begun with the question of what was the most secure place, a problem that arose first in Aquileia, then surfaced again at the time of the Longobard assault, was considered in a more sophisticated way under the rule of Antenoreo, and, appeared to have been solved after Malamocco and Chioggia, Caorle, Jesolo and Heracliana when, as a result of the Frankish advance into the Lido in 810, the Doge moved to the island of Rialto, a perfectly correct decision at the time, that led to the development of the urbs Venetorum, and the invention, on the Rialto, of the notion of impregnability; and it was this decision that brought the peace and trade that established the present conditions of the state, the arrival at the decision coinciding with the arrival of a true decision-maker; which was all very well, but what precisely did he have in mind, they heard the apparently sleeping Mastemann’s voice asking from the seat opposite, an intervention so unexpected and surprising that even Kasser and Falke woke immediately, while the startled Toót turned courteously to answer that they had always believed that the best, most effective form of defense for a settlement must obviously be water, and that is why it was such a wonderfully unique solution to build a whole city on water, for, muttered Toót, there could be nothing better as far as he was concerned than such a place, a place where the considerations of defense lay as close to the heart of the enterprise as Venice, for, as Signor Mastemann will surely know, that was the way Venice actually came into being, with people asking themselves what was the most secure environment, for the question had first arisen at the time of the Hunnish incursions into Aquileia, and had been presented during the attacks of the Longobards, and had led to ever more sophisticated solutions under the rule of Antenoreo, Signor Mastemann, said Toót, until, after Malamocco and Chioggia, Caorle, Jesolo and Heracliana they finally came up with the real answer, that is to say following the invasion of the Lido by Pepin in 810, as a result of which the Doge moved his residence to the island of Rialto, this being the perfect answer and therefore absolutely correct, and it was only in consequence of this absolutely correct solution that the urbs Venetorum came into being; and this discovery of the principle of impregnability on Rialto, that is to say the decision predicated on peace and the development of trade, is what had led to the state of affairs Venice enjoyed today, the arrival at the correct decision having coincided with the arrival of the maker of that correct decision — at which point Mastemann intervened again, to ask yes, but who was it they were thinking of, and he frowned impatiently, to which Bengazza replied, explaining that it was he who not only embodied the soul of the republic, but could articulate it too, making it clear in his will that the splendor of Venice could only be preserved under conditions of peace, with the conservation of the peace, said Korin, and in no other way, that man being Doge Mocenigo, Toót nodded, it being part of the will of Tommaso Mocenigo, and that that was what they were talking about, that famous will, that magnificent document rejecting alliance with Florence which was, in effect, the rejection of war and the first clear articulation of the concept of Venetian peace, and therefore of peace generally; that they were discussing those words of Mocenigo’s whose fame had quickly spread throughout the local principalities so that it was all perfectly public and no surprise to anyone what had happened a fortnight before in the Palazzo Ducale, and when they set out on their journey, it had been in utter ignorance, not knowing where to go, so as soon as they heard about the last pronouncements of Mocenigo at the end of March concerning the will and about the first results of voting at the Serenissima, they immediately set out, for after all where else should fugitives from the nightmare of war find shelter, they argued, but in Mocenigo’s Venice, a magnificent city that after so many vicissitudes now appeared to be seeking to realize the most complete peace yet known.
They were passing through a chestnut grove that filled the air with a fresh and delicate fragrance so for a while, said Korin, there was silence in the carriage, and when they started up their conversation again it turned to the subjects of beauty and intelligence, that is to say the beauty and intelligence of Venice of course, for Kasser, noting that Mastemann remained distant and silent but was undoubtedly paying attention, attempted to show that never before in the history of civilization had beauty and intelligence been so aptly conjoined as in Venice, and that this led him to conclude that the matchless beauty that was Venice must have been founded on purity and luminosity, on the light of intelligence, and that this combination was to be found only in Venice, for in all other significant cities beauty was inevitably a product of confusion and accident, of blind chance and overweening intellect engaged in senseless juxtaposition, while in Venice beauty was the very bride of intelligence, and this intelligence was the city’s cornerstone, founded as it was, in the strictest sense, on clarity and luminosity, the choices it had made having been luminously clear resulting in the greatest of earthly challenges finding their perfectly appropriate solutions; for, said Kasser, turning to the rest of the company while being fully aware of Mastemann’s wakeful presence, they had only to consider how the whole thing began with those interminable assaults, the constant danger, or continuous danger as Korin put it, which had forced the Venetians of those days to move into the lagoon, and how that, incredibly, had been entirely the right decision, the first in a series of ever more correct decisions which made the city — every part of which had been constructed out of necessity and intelligence — said Falke, a construction more extraordinary, more dreamlike, more magical than anything mankind had hitherto produced, one that because of these incredible yet luminous decisions had proved itself to be indestructible, unvanquishable and utterly resistant to annihilation by human hands — and not only that but that this supremely beautiful city, Falke raised his head slightly, this unforgettable empire, he said, of marble and mildew, of magnificence and mold, of purple and gold with its dusk like lead, this sum of perfections built on intelligence, was at the same time wholly impotent and functionless, absurd and useless, an intangible, static luxury, a work of inimitable, wholly captivating and unrivalled imagination, an act of unworldly daring, a world of pure impenetrable code, pure gravity and sensibility, pure coquettishness and evanescence, the symbol of a dangerous game, and at the same time an overflowing storehouse of the memory of death, memory ranging from mild clouds of melancholy through to howling terror — but at this point, said Korin, he was incapable of continuing, simply unable to conjure up or follow the spirit and letter of the manuscript, so the only practical solution would be, exceptionally, to go and get it and read the entire chapter word for word, for his own vocabulary was wholly insufficient to the task, the chaotic mess of his diction and syntax being not only inadequate but likely to destroy the effect of the whole, so he wouldn’t even try, but would simply ask the young lady to imagine what it must have been like when Kasser and Falke, traveling in Mastemann’s carriage, talked of dawn about the Bacino S. Marco, or the brand-new elevation of the Ca’ d’Oro, since, naturally enough, they talked of such things, and the talk was at such a transcendently high level it made it seem they were rushing ever faster through the fresh and fragrant grove of budding chestnut trees, and only Mastemann was proof against such transcendence, for Mastemann looked as if it was of no account to him who asked what and who answered, he being concerned only with the motion of the carriage down the highway, with its swaying, and how that swaying soothed a tired traveler such as himself, as he sat in his velvet seat.