Hidden Voices Read Online Free

Silvia, “she has one angel too many. Who would want to be watched over all of the time?”
    Luisa has been quiet until now. She gets annoyed when the talk turns to infants. She’s probably hoping that God hasn’t taken her own extra angel away for this new little orphan.
    “It might be so,” she says at last. “But I simply don’t believe that you saw their wings, Anetta. I don’t believe that, and you shouldn’t go around saying it.”
    “Not saying it doesn’t make it any the less true,” says Anetta. I’m surprised to hear her oppose Luisa. Almost always Anetta will agree with whatever she says.
    “And I suppose you think that she’s bound to have a grand voice when she grows up,” Luisa adds. “Just don’t be upset if she takes to embroidery or some other domestic skill and lives with the
commun
girls where she’ll make dresses, chemises, and kerchiefs for the
coro.
”
    “I can’t know the future, Luisa,” Anetta says, somewhat chagrined, “but the signs I have seen make me feel certain that something unusual is in store for this little one. If you don’t want to believe it, then think what you will.”
    “As if I had need of your permission for that! Really, Anetta. You take quite a lot upon yourself.”
    “For a certain,” says Silvia with a sly grimace. “She will be sent to live with a wet nurse for her infancy, and who knows what will happen to her after that.”
    “No,” protests Anetta, “I have beseeched the signora in charge of the nursery, and she has assured . . . well, almost assured me . . . that Concerta will be kept at the Ospedale.”
    “And if she isn’t?”
    “I will not even consider of that possibility.”
    Tonight Signora Mandano has laid a small fire in the parlor to dry out the dampness that’s begun to creep back into the building with the coming of cooler weather. Some of the girls arrange themselves around it on small cushions, but Anetta spreads her entire body facedown on the tile floor and rests her head on her hands. When she bends her knees and waggles her big feet in the air, it’s too much for Luisa.
    “You cannot laze around in that way,” she states. “It is so . . . so . . . unwomanly, and not charming in the least.”
    As if formerly unaware of her odd comportment, Anetta turns over and sits up very straight.
    “No one would mind,” I say to Luisa. “Prioress has gone to bed. Why be so stiff-backed?”
    “Luisa is quite correct,” Anetta defends her. “I’m sorry, Luisa. I sometimes forget myself. I’m not naturally graceful like you.”
    “Ooh. And please do not grovel. I cannot bear it.”
    Anetta becomes very still and composed, as if she’s a puppet with strings that Luisa can pull. It’s upsetting to watch.
    “When Father Vivaldi finally returns in the morning, he’ll be so surprised at the progress you’ve made,” I say to console and distract her. He lives not far from here, I’m told, but is often quite late.
    “But you haven’t heard me play the new solo.”
    “I caught the very last movement,” I lie, “when I went back to the school at night for some . . . ink. It seems much improved and is certainly . . . lavish and . . . lively.”
    She jumps up and sits down again awkwardly in the chair next to mine with a hand on my arm, her wide brow furrowed with concern.
    “And did you see anything in the street? Did you see anyone? Someone carrying a bundle perhaps?”
    “No. I mean . . . I don’t think so. I don’t remember.”
    She sighs.
    “You probably passed her. Concerta’s mother. You must have passed her. Poor woman. I wonder what will become of her.”
    Luisa shakes her head and pulls on a dark lock that falls along one cheek. “Fortunate woman is more the like. Isn’t it enough that the Ospedale takes in her child to feed and educate?”
    “But to have to give her own baby away like that. I cannot imagine what that must be like.”
    Why does she think it so extraordinary? Weren’t we, in fact, each like