Daughter of Venice by Donna Jo Napoli Page A

say, “That notwithstanding, the quality of this silk is clearly second to that of Venice’s wool.” Then she’d smile hugely and continue her rushing about.
    My hands tremble a little as I tuck the end of the swath in place. It’s been three days since Father’s announcement of the family marriages, but it feels like forever. Everything has changed. I stand in profile and examine my changed self in the mirror.
    “Flat as a man,” says Paolina with a giggle. She slinks up behind me and gives me a conspiratorial grin in the mirror.
    I twirl around and kiss the tip of her nose.
    Laura makes a tsking noise and plucks at the silk swath that binds my breasts flat. “Someone’s going to guess. Someone outside.”
    “No one outside will guess,” says Andriana. “Neither of you will ever have enough bosom to arouse suspicion.”
    “That’s the truth.” I laugh teasingly. “I saw you sitting in profile at the balcony windows yesterday. No one in Venice is ignorant of your ample charms. I bet half the bachelors in the city long for you.”
    But Laura’s chewing on her bottom lip. She doesn’t give even the smallest smile. “Do you have to bind yourself so tightly, though, Donata? That can’t be good for your growth. Think of Chinese women’s feet, after all.”
    Francesco has told us stories he’s heard about Chinese women’s feet, contorted so unnaturally from binding that the women cannot walk. They have to be carried around. And stories about their nails, grown so long that the women cannot use their hands. They have to be fed and washed. A spasm of distaste jerks me tall. I don’t want to be a man. I simply want the privileges of a man. Or at least this one privilege: free passage. And I must seize this privilege now, before it’s too late. But I wouldn’t give up my womanhood for it.
    I loosen the silk swath and breathe deeply.
    Laura’s face softens in relief.
    “Laura’s right,” says Andriana. “You’re going to get caught. Not by strangers. By Mother. Then we’ll all get in trouble. And if that happens, I’ll say I told you not to do it. I mean that, Donata. I won’t get in trouble over this—not now—not when Father and Mother are looking for a husband for me.”
    “That’s all right. I wouldn’t ask you to take any blame on my behalf. Besides, there won’t be any blame to take. And think of it, sisters. Francesco has been practically ignoring us lately—he almost never tells us stories anymore. But today I’ll go out and have adventures myself, and I’ll bring home wonderful stories for all of you, and no one will be the wiser.”
    “We don’t need wonderful stories, Donata.” Andriana presses one hand against the spot between her eyebrows. I know she’s trying to keep her brow from furrowing—she does that to prevent those ugly lines that worriers get. “Don’t do it. You will get caught.”
    “How?” My hand goes to my mouth and I look at Laura. “Oh no, you’re not going out yourself today, are you? You’re not visiting a friend?”
    “No no,” says Laura. “But you will get caught.”
    “Not if you pretend you’re me when Mother comes asking, as you promised.” I catch her right hand in both of mine. “You will be true to me, won’t you?”
    “Of course. I’ll curtsy for you and hurry to whatever task Mother sets. I’ll be the most obedient and sweetest self anyone could want. All in your name, I swear.”
    “So that will work,” I say. “Mother is so busy these days, carting Andriana around to the dressmaker’s and all those . . .” I stop myself. I was about to call the things Mother and Andriana do foolish. Jealousy can make me unkind. That’s truly foolish. Besides, I am happy for Andriana. I must remember that. “Mother’s never in the workroom. She hardly notices I am here now. She won’t notice when I’m not here.”
    “She’ll notice,” says Andriana. “How could she not, if Laura is as obedient as she promises to be?”
    I look at