Beatrice picks up her pen and gazes into middle distance as she tries to pull together the tangled threads of her memories of the past month.

It has been far too long since I have written, dear diary. So much has been happening here in Sorrentina and I can't quite keep up. First and very important - I have found a means of earning a living so I will be able to keep body and soul together and not have to pawn mama's necklace. (The moonstones are so magical; I think of her every time I look upon them!)

Beatrice looks up from her writing, eyes misting over as she remembers her mother's last days in a sterile Viennese hospital run by Carmelite nuns. She rubs the pale, luminous stones between her fingers, remembering her mother's last days. Lying on her bed, one hot day in June, the same month she was born, her mother reached under her starched white pillow and handed her a box containing the necklace. 'Moonstones,' she said, 'are supposed to protect the wearer from harm and danger in travelling by sea and land, to give mental inspiration, and to bring success and good fortune in love.'

Beatrice shook herself and returned to the present, with new resolve to continue her journal.

During the first week here I made an appointment with Lady Aphrodite Macbain to see whether I could earn some money working in her cafe. She kindly showed me around the kitchen, the vegetable garden and the cafe itself. Everything is kept in excellent order and I found a few Scottish mementos that reminded me of her origins and explained to me her drive for neatness..

She no longer needs help in the caffe with either serving or baking. A woman by the name of Hestia now serves coffee when Aphrodite is away, and the bakery next door provides all the bread and dolce she needs.

Lady Macbain said that she did need help in her garden - weeding, planting and harvesting. Although I haven't the least idea how to tend a garden, I can learn!

I therefore agreed to help out a few days a week - but the money I earn will never be enough to cover all my living expenses here.

But over the past few weeks, things have been turning out for the better! For example, Elisabetta will earn money doing sewing and embroidery work. (How thankful we are for the good training she received in the convent in Vienna and her experience as a seamstress in Venezia!) She has been talking with the count and is most impressed by him. (I do believe she has developed a crush - his urbanity and charm have had a strong effect on her!) They went for a walk one day, and while they were descending the steps of the villa, he promised he would advise certain of his clients in the Neopolitan and French courts about Elisabetta's skills in embroidery and fine stitchery. I am sure something good will come of it!

Elisabetta and Conte Foscari

I, too, had a very fruitful conversation with the Count Foscari last week. Screwing up my courage, I knocked on his office door and he graciously invited me in, showed me to a chair and offered a glass of grappa. I sat down, gratefully accepted the small crystal glass and looked around. He works in a spacious, elegantly furnished office in the Villa. Lining the walls are large bookcases, and some paintings that made me blush. I also noticed two excellent Persian carpets and finely designed French chairs. Truly an office of a worldly, urbane man in the prime of his life !

I thanked him for everything he has done for me and my sister and, after a few sips of grappa, took courage and asked him whether he might be interested in hiring me as his private secretary. I explained that I had a number of skills appropriate to the position, that I am well educated and multi-lingual, can write a fine letter, am very well organized, and an excellent bookkeeper. For good measure, I added that I know (intimately) many men in influential positions (due to my previous profession in Venezia) who might be of help to him. He smiled and said he was indeed in need of a secretary as he has an enormous amount of paper work that is beginning to overwhelm him. Then, he proceeded to a sk me many questions that I did my best to answer, keeping my own counsel on certain subjects.

He seemed especially interested in my interpersonal and language skills that would allow me to act as an ambassador for his commercial interests throughout Europe, dealing with certain clients operating within his many trading enterprises.

The Count asked me if I would be willing to travel to the French Court in Versailles, and as well as to Spain, Austria and even Russia to the Court of Catherine the Great! He said he would pay all my expenses--including my clothing if I had to visit to the French court on his behalf. I couldn't believe my ears but tried to sound as cool and composed as I could despite my rapidly beating heart .

He told me he trades with most of the Mediterranean countries and also with some of the colonies in the new world, basically moving goods from one place to another according to demand. For instance he plans to buy up a cargo of lemons from Spain to sell to the French court so that they can have lemonade in the summer! (We both laughed at that.) He also sells Italian wine to the French, silks from Constantinople and tea from the Colonies to the English,and cotton from Egypt which he sells to everyone! I began to understandwhy he would need someone who is fluent in many laguages.

A pparently his daughter Elena (the elusive Contessa!) normally does this work for him but he said she is unable to right now, is staying with very close friends of his and I may meet her very soon! I said nothing but smiled warmly and asked whether Elena was much like him. He shrugged and said there is much of her mother in her but sometimes she reminds him of himself when he was younger.

He also surprised me by asking about my impressions of Signor Gandt. I wasn't sure why he was asking me these questions--perhaps to get a sense of my abiility to judge people. He said my impressions of people can be very useful to him! I gave a very vague answer and told him that I have had a hard time getting to know Mercury and am not really sure what he wants or where his allegiances lie. The Conte seemed happy with that.

I told the Conte that our parents, feeling unhappy in Prussia, moved to Austria and brought my sister and me with them. They both died of the plague soon after, leaving us alone to fend for ourselves. We lived a hand to mouth life in Vienna, but using the rest of our savings my sister was able to study at a convent where she learned the gentle arts of sewing, embroidery and petit point.

At his point the Count leaned toweard me, a gleam in his eye. "So you know Vienna well?" he asked me. I nodded and said, evasively, that we both did what we could in order survive. He didn't push this further but I had a feeling that Vienna holds a great significance for him right now.

I then told him how my sister and I made our way across the high mountain passes to finally arrive in Venezia where I developed and perfected the arts of a courtesan while my sister sewed for a living. Again the Conte made a rather strange remark that I didn't challenge. "Your occupation in Venezia has given you a unique training, I am hoping to call upon these talents of yours in the understanding of human nature."

I nodded and smiled.

Apparently I am exactly what he needs..."someone who can get herself noticed when she wants and be invisible at other times"

He asked me if I would be his personal secretary, working four days a week for a more than generous salary. Of course, I accepted (perhaps with too much alacrity). He showed me to my desk opposite his and said that occasionally he might put up a screen between our two desks so that the person he is interviewing is less aware of my presence. I am beginning to realize that the Conte is trading in more than tea and cotton!

I turned to say goodbye but the Count was staring intensely out the window at the Egyptian obelisk and the great lawn of Sorrentina, his back toward me. I walked out of the room and softly closed the door.

Beatrice puts down her pen and stretches, thinking, "So, here I am in Sorrentina with employment as a secretary, as an ambassador and as a gardener! And the first thing tomorrow I have to write to Spain about lemons for France!" It feels nice to have released the facts and feelings stored in her memory into her fingers and on to the paper. She feels lighter now. It may be a long time before she has time to write in her diary again.