They met at the Carnival of Venice — she was wearing a silver half-mask with sapphire plumes, he a simple black bauta. Neither knew the other's name. They danced three waltzes in the Piazza San Marco, spoke in fragments of Italian and laughter, then parted at the Rialto Bridge at dawn.

Six months later, Lorenzo walked into a gallery opening in Milan. Isabella was standing in front of a painting of the Rialto at sunrise. She turned, and he recognized her eyes before anything else. Some masks, it turns out, reveal more than they conceal.