The Connoisseur

Chapter 7 - The Rake Punished

“Did you not hear?” said Scheslingen.  “I married them off.  Elsa complained like fury, but it was best for the family.  The Baron of Harteburg may be seventy-four, but his fortune is immense.  It was an ideal match.  The capital I will reap from it will be most useful.”

Sophia tensed in her chair.  She had been trying to listen to the opera. 

“And what of Beate?” said Alexander.  Sophia was relieved to hear contempt in his voice.  “Did she get a similarly desirable match?”

“I’ve done well enough by her.  To be frank, I’m glad to have them off my hands!  They should be grateful I struck such good deals for them.”

Now Sophia smiled darkly.  She knew what was coming next.  Play any part, Alexander had said.  This part was going to be fun.

“I was hoping for an introduction to your delightful young charge,” she heard the Count say.  She turned in her chair to face him, switching her smile for a more demure one.

“By all means,” said Alexander.  “Sophia, this is the Count of Scheslingen.  Count, this is Lady Sophia, daughter of the Comte de Volisse.”

“My lady,” said Scheslingen.  “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

He took her hand and kissed it, wetly.  She could smell his breath, all tobacco and garlic. 

She kept smiling.  “Unfortunately, sir, it is no pleasure to meet you.”

The look on his face was delicious.

“I may have known you for little more than a minute, but already I find your presence intolerable,” she continued.  “You strike me as a man whose love of money is matched only by his stupidity, and who believes that his unearned wealth can purchase ownership of anything.  Are you married, sir?”

The count reeled backward.  “I, well, no.  No, I am not.”

“I can well believe it.  Doubtless you came here with the idea of ‘owning’ me?  Or perhaps you fancy yourself to be a second Don Giovanni and would rather have a quick dalliance with me in your bedchamber tonight?  And in your case, it would be quick, wouldn’t it?  Now, kindly fuck off.”

Scheslingen’s face turned purple.  His expression shot between bewilderment and fury, finally settling on an emasculated mixture of both.  He fiddled with his shirt frill and tottered out of the box, mumbling incoherently.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” said Alexander, raising an eyebrow.

“Noted,” said Sophia.  “That doesn’t happen very often, don’t worry.  The language is normally worse, too.”

“I can imagine.  That language was glorious.”

“Was it?  I like improv.  He was good inspiration.  He had it coming.”

“I might mention something about not judging the past by the standards of our own time,” said Alexander, “But yes.  He did.”

She looked at Alexander.  His face was stern, but gentle.

“I promise you,” he said, “That not everyone in the past is a complete boor.”

*

The other visitors to their box were far more amenable.  Whilst Alexander spoke with gentlemen about business and foreign matters, Sophia spoke with various wives and daughters who came with them, all of whom inquired after her upbringing.  She enjoyed playing the part at first – she felt like a high-class con artist, conjuring up a story before their eyes, being whoever she wanted to be.  Strangely, though, it began to grate.  She found herself wishing she could tell someone who she was, daring herself to announce that she came from the 21st century.  The young girls spoke a great deal about fashion, and she longed to say that their clothes were something she’d known only from paintings, TV dramas and Wikipedia.

As the opera entered its second act, however, the visitors became less frequent.  In fact, throughout the theatre people were moving less and less.  When Giovanni attacked one of his innocent enemies and fled, laughing, there was something close to silence in the audience.

“Now we come to it,” whispered Alexander once the music started up again.  “This man abuses everyone, outrages everyone, kills and attacks and escapes every form of human justice.  But by the end of the tale, this audience will be in raptures.”

He suddenly turned to her.  Fire burnt in his eyes. 

“This is what I travel for.  This!”

He whisked his head away again, his eyes locked to the stage.  For a moment, Sophia could only watch him.  The opera, she remembered, was a fiction.  It took some time for it to draw her back.

Giovanni, triumphant, untouchable, found the statue of the Commendatore, the man he had murdered to escape justice.  Sophia watched as he mocked even the memory of this man, inviting the statue to dine at his banquet.

The statue nodded; the audience gasped.  Sophia leant forward.

At the banquet, the lady Elvira pleaded with Giovanni to change his ways.  He refused, and a shudder ran round the theatre.  No one spoke to their neighbour.

At last, the terrible moment: that same terrific chord that had opened the opera, dark and immense, announced the arrival of the statue of the Commendatore.  ‘Don Giovanni!  You invited me to dinner, and I have come!’  The theatre seemed to shake.

Repent, demanded the statue of Giovanni.  Repent, thought Sophia.  Repent!

But Giovanni refused.  Rolling violins wailed in horror.  At the second asking, he refused.  Devils and demons rose up as the Commendatore seized Giovanni’s hand in an icy grip, but still he refused.  Drums thundered, trumpets called.  Giovanni damned them all, and walked willingly to his doom: ‘no man shall ever call me a coward!’

As Giovanni descended into hell, screaming in rage and madness, Sophia looked at Alexander, and shuddered: he had turned pale, and the fire in his eyes was like the sun.

*

Alexander certainly seems stoked by something.  How do you think the opera has affected him?  Do you find his choice of first-date material quite surprising?  After all, Don Giovanni is hardly a romantic comedy.  Sophia is enjoying bringing some attitude to the boors of the 18th century.  Why do you think she responded like she did to Schlesingen, and was it too strong?  Please vote and comment if you enjoyed the chapter.

The video shows the climactic scene of the opera, where the statue of the Commendatore drags Giovanni down to hell.  Even if you don't like opera, I think you might find it a thrilling scene, especially when the devils appear at the end!  The image is the earliest known set design for Don Giovanni, dating from the 1790s.  These were the most lavish artistic productions that could be staged at the time, equivalent to a £300m film today.  Also, the title of this chapter comes from the full title of the opera - The Rake Punished, or Don Giovanni.