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“I do you one better. For you, I have the Bernini Suite laid out. This way, when you’re ready.”
Hunter beckons for me to follow him. We walk through the busy space, weaving between patrons who all watch us go by. They whisper to each other when they get a look at me. I hear “Who is she?” in English from a couple of people.
Antonio pushes open a frosted glass door, and I walk through into a blue and white tiled function room with a single square table set in the center, laid out for two. The tablecloth is pure white and reaches the royal blue carpet. To the side of the table is a perfect copy of Bernini’s most famous sculpture.
“I’ll fetch your menus,” Antonio says.
Hunter shakes his head. “No need. We’ll both have my usual.”
“Of course. Be right with you.”
As he walks out, I examine the sculpture. “You know it?” Hunter asks.
“Sure. The Rape of Proserpina. I remember the name because it’s strong for a statue, right?”
“It’s a group sculpture, not a statue, and it translates more accurately as the Abduction of Proserpina.” He joins me next to the sculpture. “Finished in 1622, when Bernini was just twenty-three. Shows the talent of the man, don’t you think? Tenderness and cruelty in one work. Look at the flesh of her thigh, the fingers digging in as if that’s real skin.”
I look where he’s pointing as he continues. “Most of the sculptures of that time didn’t have a single viewpoint. You had to walk around and look at them from many points to see the whole thing but this? You can see all that matters, all the beauty, from one single point. All other viewpoints are subordinate to this one.”
I turn and find he’s staring at me, not the statue.
“You know her story, right?” he asks, still staring.
I shift in place, feeling his gaze burning into me. “I don’t know that much about it. Who was she again?”
“Daughter of Jupiter and Ceres. She was out gathering flowers when Pluto erupted from the underworld, dragging her down into the darkness to be his mate. Here he’s about to carry her off while she screams to be rescued. She’s nude apart from the cloth and fighting for her freedom, but she is doomed to fail. Reminds me a little of you this morning.”
“Who are you in the story, then?”
“Pluto, I suppose.”
“You weren’t naked this morning.” My cheeks burn as I suddenly picture him naked.
He observes my discomfort and talks over it. “And I wouldn’t call this restaurant the darkness of the underworld.”
“Well, no, it’s too well-lit for a start. And I doubt the underworld would have menus.”
“You know, this is where we get the seasons from.”
“What?”
“Ceres was the goddess of agriculture. She gets so pissed at what happened to her daughter that she dries out the earth, so the crops fail until Pluto’s willing to make a deal. They settle on him getting Proserpina for half the year.” He sits down in his chair. “And that’s where the seasons came from. When Proserpina is with Pluto, nature dies, and winter comes. When she’s back with Ceres and Jupiter, spring life returns.”
“I did not know that.” I look closer at the marble. “It’s a damned good copy. Looks just like the real thing.”
“You’ve seen it?”
“Yeah, last time I was here, I managed to spend an hour in the Borghese gallery. Amazing stuff in there.”
“Want to know a secret?”
“What?”
“The copy’s in the gallery. This is the original.”
“What? You’rekidding.”
“I made an arrangement with the gallery owner. Don’t tell anyone, will you? Giuseppe will have my head.”
