Naughty Marietta. Nan Ryan

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      Four

      Full darkness had fallen and there was a definite chill in the mountain air when Cole, dressed in dark evening attire, left the Teller House Hotel that evening.

      Eureka Street was crowded. Laughing people spilled out of restaurants and saloons. Others milled about leisurely, stopping before glass-fronted shops. Many, like him, were headed to the Tivoli Opera House for the debut performance of La Traviata.

      In minutes Cole reached the imposing opera house, which was built out of stone, brick and iron. The main entrance was wide; swinging doors afforded passage into a spacious corridor.

      On the ground floor, at the back of the roomy foyer, was a large gambling club. Cole instinctively moved closer, pausing just outside the crowded, smoked-filled casino. He was sorely tempted. It had been ages since he’d sat in on a good poker game.

      He thought about the ten thousand dollars in the Gulf Shores State Bank. Ten thousand that belonged to him. His to do with as he pleased. His expense money—a thick roll of bills—was suddenly burning a hole in his pocket. With effort, he resisted the strong lure.

      He turned away and moved with the growing crowd up a flight of stairs to the theater. The grand stairway divided two spacious sections of the theater. The ornate and elaborate audience room was large, and the dress circle, where Cole was to sit, was reached by a second set of stairs. The circle extended, horseshoe shaped, around the room.

      Opera chairs with adjustable seats were of ornate cast and upholstered in scarlet plush. Cole found his and sat down in the comfortable chair. White-and-gold hand-turned balusters formed balustrades around the horseshoe circle. The railing was covered with scarlet plush.

      Cole looked around with interest. On the right side of the stage, high up on the wall, was a large private box, mirrored and upholstered in scarlet like the dress circle. Lambrequins and lace curtains gave the private box a degree of privacy. The box was presently empty.

      Cole’s attention returned to the main floor of the grand theater. The wide aisles were beautifully carpeted in red, the walls were painted in brilliant colors, the ceilings handsomely frescoed. Everything was red, gold and white, and revealed by brightly burning gas jets.

      Just below the scarlet-curtained stage, a fifteen-piece orchestra was seated in a circular box. They played an overture as the auditorium began to fill with patrons.

      Cole had patronized few opera houses, but he felt certain this one was as grand a theater as could be found anywhere in America. Cole lifted and studied his program.

      La Traviata

      by Giuseppe Verdi

      Characters

      Violetta Valéry, a courtesan…………………Soprano

      Dr. Grenvil, Violetta’s physician……………Bass

      Alfredo Germont, lover of Violetta…………Tenor

      Cole glanced through the rest of the cast, then read the brief summary of the opera’s story at the bottom of the page.

      A tale of the tragic romance of Violetta Valéry, a beautiful courtesan of Paris, and Alfredo Germont, a sincere and poetic young man of a respectable provincial family.

      Cole finished reading and lowered the program.

      The theater had quickly filled to capacity. Every seat in the house was taken. While there was a scattering of handsomely dressed couples, the majority of the first-nighters were men. Men who were not handsomely dressed. A rough-hewn, sunburned lot in work clothes looking sorely out of place in this palatial amphitheater.

      Cole wondered briefly if it was the opera’s celebrated star, Marietta, who had attracted such an unlikely mix.

      Impatient for the curtain to go up, Cole again glanced at the private box high up on the wall near the stage.

      It was no longer empty. A silver-haired, impeccably dressed gentleman sat in the plush box, a look of eager anticipation on his face. Something moved behind the gentleman. Cole’s attention was drawn to the back of the box.

      Beneath a sway of lace curtains, half hidden in shadow, stood a tall, spare man with shifty eyes and a nasty-looking scar on his cheek.

      The conductor rapped his baton.

      The noisy crowd quieted.

      Cole quickly turned his attention to the stage. The scarlet curtain rose. The opera began. Act 1 opened on the richly furnished drawing room of Violetta Valéry in Paris. A party was under way. Several bit players sang their parts.

      Cole quickly grew restless.

      He had no interest in the supporting cast. He had come to see Marietta.

      At last the star appeared onstage amidst deafening cheers from the appreciative patrons. Cole blinked, then stared, feeling as if he’d just been struck in the solar plexus.

      Marietta was so incredibly beautiful he couldn’t believe his eyes. Cole drew a quick intake of air and felt his heart lurch in his chest.

      Flaming red-gold hair framed a perfect face with flawless apricot skin, large, dazzling eyes, a small upturned nose and a ripe, red mouth fashioned for kissing. Tall and slender with soft feminine curves, she wore a luxurious ball gown of shimmering turquoise silk adorned with thousands of tiny semiprecious stones.