Juliet. Anne Fortier
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sellers, pilgrims with thieves – and on every corner stood a prophet with a wax candle, condemning the material world while eyeing every passing prostitute like a dog watching a string of sausages.
Elbowing their way up the street, jumping over a gutter here, a beggar there, and ducking under deliveries and sedan chairs, the young men at length found themselves on the edge of Piazza Tolomei. Stretching to see why the crowd had come to a standstill, Romeo caught a glimpse of a colourful figure swaying to and fro in the black night air on the front steps of the church of San Cristoforo.
‘Look!’ exclaimed one of his cousins. ‘Tolomei has invited San Cristoforo to dinner. But he is not dressed up. Shame on him!’
They all watched in awe as the torch-lit procession from the church made its way across the piazza towards Palazzo Tolomei, and Romeo suddenly knew that here was his chance to enter the forbidding house through the front door rather than stupidly standing around beneath what he presumed was Giulietta’s window. A long line of self-important people trailed behind the priests carrying the saint, and they were all wearing carnival masks. It was commonly known that Messere Tolomei held masked balls every few months in order to sneak banished allies and lawless family members into his house. Had he not, he would scarcely have been able to fill the dancing floor.
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