The Thief of Venice(41)

"But won't the management be angry?" said Louise Alderney, wife of Tertius Alderney, the member of Parliament. "Aren't we committed here to a full week?"

"Oh, we may have to pay an extra day in apology, but it's not like a contract in law."

Then the bishop leaned forward, waving a cupcake. "I know an excellent alternative, the Hotel Flora. Everybody recommends the Flora."

"But is it on higher ground?" said his wife shrewdly. "That's the important thing. It's all that really matters."

The bishop popped the cupcake into his mouth and whipped out a map showing the distribution of high water. He consulted it gravely, changing one pair of spectacles for another. Then he folded the map and shook his head. "Sorry, chaps, it won't do. It's an island surrounded by water."

"Our big mistake was the decision to come in November," said the MP, frowning at the bishop, who had been at fault.

"Oh, it doesn't really matter," said Elizabeth Cluff-Luffter generously, throwing herself back in her chair. "I can write my novel anywhere. It's all in my head."

"But, Elizabeth," said Louise Alderney, "they say the water is rising every day. It's going to get worse and worse. Perhaps we should all go home."

"Nonsense, Louise," said Elizabeth. "Where's your fighting spirit? Don't be so timid." She raised her fist in a gallant gesture. "Let us splash on."

"Oh, if only I'd brought my wellies," said Louise.



The Piazza Council was not as accepting of the current state of acqua alta in the city of Venice as was Elizabeth Cluff-Luffter. At their second urgent meeting in the Hall of the Council of Ten, three more members of the Consorzio Venezia Nuova showed up. They sat together at one end of the table and complained loudly about their bad press, when of course everyone knew perfectly well that the delay in the construction of the mobile barriers in the lagoon was not their fault at all, it was the fault of the City Council.

Angry looks were directed at the other end of the table, where the mayor sat between Sam Bell and Acting Procurator Tommaso Bernardi. Behind the mayor a door opened on the staircase where wretched citizens accused by the Council of Ten had once been led away to prison cells. Obviously the Consorzio Venezia Nuova would have liked to enjoy the same condemnatory power.

They glowered at the mayor and one of them spoke his mind. "It is the City Council which has prevented the construction of the floodgates at the ports of Lido, Malamocco, and Chioggia. Our hydraulic model at Voltabarozzo has been proven to work. When can we expect the permission and the funding to begin in earnest?"

"Unfortunately," growled the mayor, "your hydraulic model does not take into account all the complexities of the situation."

It was a typical long-standing argument. Sam broke in to plead for practical temporary measures to protect the piazza right now, because, after all, it was no joke. When the worst of the high water came rushing into the square, there would be injury to the foundations of their grand historic buildings and flooding of their ground floors, accompanied by all the bad effects of moisture on walls and ceilings and precious works of art, including the rare old books in the Biblioteca Marciana.

"At least we can be grateful that there are fewer tourists at this time of year," said Father Urbano, thinking of his summertime nightmare, the endless lines of people shuttling through the basilica. "It's amazing that these latecomers are willing to walk on the platforms and wait their turn to come in, even in heavy rain."

"Well, you can't blame them," said the superintendent of Venetian fine arts and history. "They've flown halfway around the world, and by God they're going to see everything they've been promised."

"And of course everything they've been promised," said Sam sarcastically, "is in our part of the city. Which just happens to be at one of the lowest points in Venice. Why don't the tourist agencies tell them about other attractions—the Scuola di San Rocco, for instance, and the Naval Museum?"

Another official body was represented at the meeting, L'Ufficio Idrografico del Magistrate alle Acque. "We will of course," promised their spokesman, "send our usual daily faxes forecasting the heights and times of acqua alta."

Gloom prevailed. On the way into the building they had all experienced the results of the rising water. They had threaded their way into the meeting through masses of tourists mincing along the duckboards into San Marco and the Ducal Palace, and through the throngs crowding the arcades of the Procuratie Vecchie, the Procuratie Nuove, the Museo Correr, and the Libreria di Sansovino.

"One finds it so difficult to get into one's office," complained Signor Bernardi, the delegate from the headquarters of the procurators of San Marco.