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"Castration," Da Vinci pointed at the boy's throat. "You see, he's already past the right time."
"No—" Hedy, still in disbelief, pressed the cork back into the bottle. "The point is not the Adam's apple. Why would you need to be castrated to sing?"
"Because male singers need not only more power than sopranos, but they also have to have a high enough vocal range," Da Vinci explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If you're going to study singing professionally, you need to have it done by the time you're eleven or twelve."
This was a choice for many poor families—after all, it could bring in substantial earnings, and even a respectable position in thechoir.
Atalante fell silent for a few seconds. "I think I'll go to Venice."
The journey from Milan back to Florence took eight days. The small town was still bustling with people, and it seemed no different from before.
They returned together to the Doge’s Palace, and after meeting with the lord, they each went off to rest.
Hedy had been observing Mr. Medici’s complexion and condition.
He looked quite healthy, and his face had a bit of a flush.
It seemed that his gout hadn’t flared up recently.
Dechio was waiting at the door, with even fresh clothes prepared.
"The bath has just been filled with hot water, and new towels are ready for you."
Hedy almost wanted to give her a big hug. She hurried to the bath and soaked herself.
There hadn't been anything particularly eventful in the past few days. Although the Feast of the Assumption was still more than half a month away, many scholars and painters had already taken their breaks.
The climate here was typical of the Mediterranean: hot and dry in the summer, mild and rainy in the winter.
During July and August, many shops closed early, and there were farmers swimming and enjoying themselves by the Arno River.
Hedy spent some time looking at new drafts of paintings at Botticelli's, and when she stepped out, she ran into Da Vinci.
He was heading out to buy various new materials, and they chatted as they walked together.
As they passed the statue of David, Hedy instinctively glanced at it for a moment longer, and Da Vinci noticed this small gesture.
"What are you looking at?"
She awkwardly pulled her gaze away and cleared her throat as if nothing had happened.
She had actually been looking at... certain private parts of David.
To flaunt their wealth and taste, many nobles would place statues inside and outside their palaces, but most of them were nude men.
They could have been clothed or draped in fabric, yet the key areas were usually left exposed.
...Why are those parts of these men all so small?
Da Vinci noticed her subconsciously glancing again and suddenly realized, bursting into laughter.
"So that’s what you were looking at?"
"Is it strange?" He also studied it for a moment before turning to her. "What are you thinking?"
Hedy was rather honest: "Questioning the size."
"That’s not how it really is," Da Vinci said, leading her forward but changing their route, as if intending to show her something else.
