The Heir of Bellini

The winter had descended upon Venice with a rare, breathtaking beauty. A blanket of soft, crystalline snow had fallen silently overnight, dusting the carved Istrian stone gargoyles, the gothic pinnacles, and the marble bridges of the city in pure, glistening white. The Grand Canal was quiet, the black gondolas tied to their wooden moorings beneath blankets of snow, their prows rising out of the green water like dark swans. Inside…