Troubetzkoy’! He’s an artist, a mystic, and a vegetarian. He had three brothers and two sisters, all children of this Russian Prince and this American actress. They were all artists, members of the ‘Scapigliati Movement”. Gavin tapped at his keyboard. “The ‘Scapigliati Movement.’ Good Lord, they’re really a ‘movement, ‘ the links lead all over the place.”
The Professor winced. “I can’t believe that computers know anything about the Scapigliati Movement. The Scapigliati were romantics, they hated technology.”
“The Prince’s sister knew Rudolph Valentino. They say she was Valentino’s lover.”
“How do you know about that?” said Professor Milo, blinking.
“Well, it’s right here on Wikipedia! The hotel has broadband.”
“I know about that Valentino rumor, but that took me years !”
“Ma’am, even Wikipedia can’t keep this Scapigliati story straight. These Italian artists were a pack of weirdos. Why is history so complicated?”
“The past is never past,” said Farfalla darkly, “Because the present is always present.” She drained the last drop of her cappuccino.
Gavin gazed at her for a few silent heartbeats. Where had that dark remark come from? What the heck was going on with her? That was not some cute-Italian smart-cookie thing to say. That was a fortune-cookie thing to say. Very out-there and ominous.
Farfalla Corrado suddenly looked feral to him. The triangular head, and those too-bright clothes. She was like a technicolor alley cat.
“Farfalla, have you ever heard of this ‘Scapigliati Movement?’”
“Oh yes, of course, the Scapigliati,” said Farfalla, twitching itchily and scrunching her shoulders. “Their revival show in Milano was a disaster! What a scandal.”
“These Scapigliati artists sound pretty wild and crazy. All kinds of drugs and free love.”
“Sex and drugs are old and boring,” declared Farfalla, rolling her big dark eyes. “The Italian Futurists had cars and airplanes. Not Scapigliati sex and drugs.”
“You like the Futurists, Farfalla?”
“I adore the Futuristi! The Futuristi are exciting ! The world is still afraid of them! They were always ahead of their time! They are still ahead of our time. The Futuristi are ahead of our time right now. ” Farfalla scratched at the air with flying hands.
Gavin was instantly charmed. What a wonderful Italian-girl attitude. Italians had strong opinions about art and culture — because those things really mattered to Italians. Italians would kill over art.
“Obviously, you’re our local expert, then,” he told her. “So, tell me something now. This is the big question. If you’re this Prince Pierre Troubetzkoy, and you claim you are going to make this fancy statue of Cupid for your wife — do you actually create a statue of Cupid? Or do you blow it all off, because it’s just a publicity stunt?”
“Oh, he made the statue,” said Farfalla, at once. “I know that he made the statue.”
“I totally agree with you,” said Gavin, leaning back. “I’m certain you’re right. He had to do both those things. He promised her the moon in public, but then gave her a single red rose.” He turned to the professor, twitching with insight. “Your statue of Cupid existed. Maybe it was just made of clay, maybe it’s long-gone, but I’d bet anything that he made it. That’s the Italian way.”
“You know the Italian way?” said Farfalla. She wasn’t flirting with him. She thought he was being an idiot.
“No, no, I could never claim such a thing! Nobody knows the Italian way. Not even Italians themselves. But, I do have a lot of business dealings with Italians. Practically speaking — cash on the table — the Italians are not all that hard to figure out.”
“I’m Italian,” said Farfalla. “Maybe it’s true... I can never understand Italians. Too much past, never enough future.” She shrugged, and tugged at her bright, patterned sleeve. “I can understand
The Professor winced. “I can’t believe that computers know anything about the Scapigliati Movement. The Scapigliati were romantics, they hated technology.”
“The Prince’s sister knew Rudolph Valentino. They say she was Valentino’s lover.”
“How do you know about that?” said Professor Milo, blinking.
“Well, it’s right here on Wikipedia! The hotel has broadband.”
“I know about that Valentino rumor, but that took me years !”
“Ma’am, even Wikipedia can’t keep this Scapigliati story straight. These Italian artists were a pack of weirdos. Why is history so complicated?”
“The past is never past,” said Farfalla darkly, “Because the present is always present.” She drained the last drop of her cappuccino.
Gavin gazed at her for a few silent heartbeats. Where had that dark remark come from? What the heck was going on with her? That was not some cute-Italian smart-cookie thing to say. That was a fortune-cookie thing to say. Very out-there and ominous.
Farfalla Corrado suddenly looked feral to him. The triangular head, and those too-bright clothes. She was like a technicolor alley cat.
“Farfalla, have you ever heard of this ‘Scapigliati Movement?’”
“Oh yes, of course, the Scapigliati,” said Farfalla, twitching itchily and scrunching her shoulders. “Their revival show in Milano was a disaster! What a scandal.”
“These Scapigliati artists sound pretty wild and crazy. All kinds of drugs and free love.”
“Sex and drugs are old and boring,” declared Farfalla, rolling her big dark eyes. “The Italian Futurists had cars and airplanes. Not Scapigliati sex and drugs.”
“You like the Futurists, Farfalla?”
“I adore the Futuristi! The Futuristi are exciting ! The world is still afraid of them! They were always ahead of their time! They are still ahead of our time. The Futuristi are ahead of our time right now. ” Farfalla scratched at the air with flying hands.
Gavin was instantly charmed. What a wonderful Italian-girl attitude. Italians had strong opinions about art and culture — because those things really mattered to Italians. Italians would kill over art.
“Obviously, you’re our local expert, then,” he told her. “So, tell me something now. This is the big question. If you’re this Prince Pierre Troubetzkoy, and you claim you are going to make this fancy statue of Cupid for your wife — do you actually create a statue of Cupid? Or do you blow it all off, because it’s just a publicity stunt?”
“Oh, he made the statue,” said Farfalla, at once. “I know that he made the statue.”
“I totally agree with you,” said Gavin, leaning back. “I’m certain you’re right. He had to do both those things. He promised her the moon in public, but then gave her a single red rose.” He turned to the professor, twitching with insight. “Your statue of Cupid existed. Maybe it was just made of clay, maybe it’s long-gone, but I’d bet anything that he made it. That’s the Italian way.”
“You know the Italian way?” said Farfalla. She wasn’t flirting with him. She thought he was being an idiot.
“No, no, I could never claim such a thing! Nobody knows the Italian way. Not even Italians themselves. But, I do have a lot of business dealings with Italians. Practically speaking — cash on the table — the Italians are not all that hard to figure out.”
“I’m Italian,” said Farfalla. “Maybe it’s true... I can never understand Italians. Too much past, never enough future.” She shrugged, and tugged at her bright, patterned sleeve. “I can understand
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