The route to Mardetto's home lead through Patriziano Square, which at this time of day was filled with brightly-colored girls of the City's better families. They had never noticed him before. But today, as he walked by, it was different.
"Rigardu, Rozalia! That man— do you think it could be that he is an artist?" said a girl in a white dress decorated with tiny flowers that reflected her teal-blue skin.
"The one with the sunset-color skin?" asked her companion, she of the yellow-green skin.
"That's the one."
"I wonder where he is going— do you think we could go there, too?"
"Really, Rozalia! Following a man around— what will people think of us?"
"That we have the attention of a fine handsome man, mi esperas."
For all that Mardetto felt like hurrying away, blushing— if it was possible to blush in a freshly applied skin suit— he did not do it. Instead— and he was thinking I must be crazy, I'm not like this, I don't talk to girls I don't know on the street the whole time— he walked to the girls who were talking about him.
"Excuse me, beautiful ladies," he said, "but could you do me a great kindness?"
They raised their fans to their faces— the automatic gesture of modest girls— and said that they could.
"I am in search of a shop which sells artist colors— and sketchbooks, I shall most definitely need a sketchbook. Do you know of such a shop?"
The girls looked at one another as if they were consulting with one another by means of mental power alone, and then one spoke.
"There is a wholesale firm that deals in such things, on Speranza Street," Rozalia said.
The wholesaler that Mardetto bought from, for the shop. Which would be the practical choice. "No, not today," he heard himself saying. "A wholesale firm— that would make art seem too much a business, do you not think? I need an ordinary shop, if you can be so kind as to recommend one."
The girls consulted wordlessly again, and this time it was Rozalia's friend that spoke. "I believe Aldetto's shop would be the best— do you not think so, Rozalia?" The indicated girl agreed. "But the way— it is difficult to describe. Perhaps it would be better...." and here she blushed quite noticeably through her teal-blue skin ".... if we were to accompany you? Just to show you the way."
"Oh," said Mardetto, "but it would not be right to walk with unmarried young ladies with whom I am not acquainted."
"Ah, too bad," said Rozalia's friend.
"So you must tell me your name," continued Mardetto. "Since I know you only as friend-of-Rozalia."
The girls laughed. "Her name is Terzetta," Rozalia said. "I formally present her to you, sinjoro."
"And I am Mardetto Abrono, artist." And offering an arm to each girl, he walked on, as if he were an only child, and a man bold with girls, as well. And that was the first act in Mardetto Abrono's new life. Or so it is said across the whole of the City.
YOU ARE READING
The Skin Shirt
Khoa học viễn tưởngIn the City, they change their skin color as easily as changing a shirt. Mardetto Abrono was only a merchant. It was his late twin Marcello who was the artist. Mardetto only sold the works that his brother created. But when Mardetto was faced with t...
