Venice on a High Note

Ultimately, the cause was less important than finding a way to rebuild the house. There was some sentiment for producing a modern opera house. But in the end, Venice decided it wanted Fenice the way it had been -- "as it was, where it was."

There were some additions: more room backstage so that it would be easier to store opera sets; additional rehearsal spaces; an exquisite hall called Sala Rossi, seating 190 for chamber music concerts; a new entrance from the canal behind the opera (named for Callas).

The rebuilding took seven years, thanks in part to baroque entanglements with the government. But as anyone who has been to Venice can imagine, undertaking a major construction project in the middle of the city is a nightmare. The "streets" around the opera house are barely wide enough for three people to walk abreast, so everything had to come in on boats and barges. Because La Fenice lies deep within the rib cage of Venice's most historic district, bringing in the kind of giant cranes needed for a project like this was an elaborate puzzle.

In addition, the fire did not entirely consume La Fenice. The facade and the ornate rooms near the entrance -- the same chunk that had survived the 1836 fire -- were still standing, and the rebuilders had to somehow avoid giving those ancient walls a tap.

But against the odds, the city succeeded. The opera reopened.

And while carpenters were hammering away on the building, a remorseless prosecutor was hammering away at the mysterious cause of the fire.

The Final Word

Getting to the bottom of anything is difficult in Venice. The prologue of "Falling Angels" closes with the words of one of the city's most distinguished citizens, Count Girolamo Marcello: "Venetians never tell the truth. We mean precisely the opposite of what we say."

No surprise, then, that when the prosecutor accused two lowly electricians of torching La Fenice, no one believed it was the whole truth. One of the two men charged vanished before trial and has never been found. His father, a suspected link to shadowy "big boys" who might have paid for the arson, died of lung cancer. The other defendant, a sad sack whom Berendt described as "perhaps the most inarticulate man I have ever interviewed," was eventually convicted.

The Venetian painter Ludovico De Luigi, who provides incendiary insights throughout the book, had the final word on the verdict:

"The father's dead, the trail goes cold, and the mystery lingers on," said De Luigi with a chuckle. "It's all about money as usual. Not love -- money. The perfect ending for Venice."

John Pancake is editor of The Post's Sunday Arts section. To comment on this article, send e-mail to travel@washpost.com.