“She told Hertwig she would give her anything she wanted if she would just help her win Cherubino back and make him sick at the thought of laying with anyone else, be it woman or man.
“And so began her education. Day after day, when Cherubino was with the emperor, La Lune was with the crone, learning her secrets, memorizing her spells. In exchange Hertwig wanted beautiful things, and La Lune had them to trade. Pearls, emeralds, sapphires. -Hertwig’s lust for jewels was as strong as La Lune’s was for -Cherubino. She traded one fortune for another. A lustrous pearl necklace for the secret to making brews that ensured health. A bracelet of moonstones for the spell to fell your enemy. An emerald ring for the spell to make you see in the dark. It was Hertwig who told La Lune about the legend of the rubies. Inside of each one, she said, was a drop of blood that contained the secret to immortality. She showed La Lune her own necklace. Five ruby flowers strung together on a platinum chain with an Ouroboros clasp. She said that each ruby had been made of blood. How she had come to own it, La Lune could guess. Hertwig was a good trader. She had probably sold someone the secret to poisoning an enemy in order to get that necklace.
“And so the time came for La Lune to finally learn how to mix the potion to make Cherubino love her again. First, Hertwig needed items that took weeks to gather. Strands of his hair. Clippings from his fingernails. And six drops of his blood. But how could she draw and collect his blood?
“Hertwig taught her to make a draught to make him sleep more deeply so that while he slumbered she could prick his finger without waking him up and then capture his blood droplets into a glass tube.
“Sitting at Hertwig’s hearth, by the fire where the herbs and flowers hung drying, among the bottles of strange, wonderful, and foul-smelling liquids, La Lune took instructions on how to prepare the final brew, the one the old witch promised would return her lover to her.”
I was exhausted, but I couldn’t stop telling the story. Not yet. Not until I was finished. For the last few minutes my grandmother had not moved, but sat still, frozen, staring at me.
“ ‘There is so much blood here—perhaps you would like your own ruby necklace,’ Hertwig offered. ‘Rubies would look good around your neck.’
“La Lune said yes, she would, and Hertwig promised she would have it waiting for her when the brew was ready. In payment, La Lune gave her two goblets made of gold encrusted with pearls that had been left on a tray in Cherubino’s room along with an empty bottle of wine.
“A week later Hertwig was waiting with the necklace and a small bottle of a rose-colored liquid.
“La Lune did everything that she had been taught. She poured Cherubino his wine and whispered the spell over it as she dropped in the proper amount of potion. It worked. Cherubino was seeing her anew. He wanted her as he had when they’d first become lovers. And after they were both satiated, he drifted off to sleep. But he did not wake up. He didn’t die, but neither was he alive. He remained in that state for days. Rudolf himself came to see Cherubino and sent his own physicians, but nothing could wake the painter.
“Since La Lune had been seen going to Hertwig’s shop on the golden lane, she was accused of being in cahoots with the witch and casting a spell on Cherubino, and Rudolf’s henchmen imprisoned her.
“While La Lune languished in that chamber of horrors attached to the castle, she could think only of Cherubino. When the inquisitors came and asked what she had done, she didn’t know what to say. If she admitted the truth, they could go to Hertwig to try and reverse the spell. Yes, La Lune would burn for being a witch, but Cherubino would have a chance to survive. If she didn’t tell Rudolf’s men, no one would be able to ask Hertwig to help, and Cherubino would certainly die.
“Finally La Lune agreed to tell them what she’d done, but only if she could talk to the emperor himself.
“When he arrived, she offered Rudolf a deal. She would tell him what she had done and who could save Cherubino, but only if he would promise not to have her or Hertwig killed. Rudolf acquiesced with the stipulation that La Lune return to France immediately. That very night, before Hertwig could be summoned to brew an antidote, Cherubino died.”
Tears dripped down my cheeks. My mind was a jumble of feelings and images and words.
My grandmother’s face was a mask of fear. She stood still and frozen to the spot. Then slowly she raised her hand, pointed at the empty space behind me, and shouted into the air: “Get away! Get away from my granddaughter! Get out of my house!”
Her face was florid. Her expression crazed. Who was she screaming at? I turned. There was no one there. I followed her finger. My grandmother was indicating La Lune in the mural.
“She’s laughing at me,” my grandmother said. “She’s laughing at me because I tried to keep you safe. But you had to seek her out. You had to disobey me. Now she has what she wants. You’re under her influence, and I don’t know how to fight her. I don’t . . .” She collapsed on my bed, crying.
My grandmother’s shouts had echoed through the house and brought the housekeeper. Together we managed to subdue my grandmother and take her to her own bedroom, where her maid gave her a draught of laudanum to quiet her. We then went to summon the doctor.
By the time the doctor arrived, I had cleaned myself up and redressed, and I met him at the door. I showed him to my grandmother’s boudoir, where he spent a half hour with her before coming out to speak to me.
“She is talking about many very strange things, Mademoiselle Verlaine. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Not really, no. She went to a funeral for our cousin Jacob . . . Rabbi Richter, and returned quite disturbed.”
“I suggest you keep her sedated for the rest of today and this evening. I’ll check in with you tomorrow. She should be better by then.”
But when he returned the next day, she wasn’t better. And after three days of keeping her quiet and sedated, there was still no progress. In fact, she was becoming even more incoherent.
“She can only talk about her fear that you are being taken over by the moon. Sometimes she says the moon is a ghost, other times a witch. I think a stay in a sanatorium might be our best hope.”
I didn’t explain. Perhaps I should have, but it wouldn’t have helped her.
And so I signed the appropriate papers and sat and waited in the parlor for her maid to dress her and then watched as the doctor escorted my grandmother out. She seemed to leave willingly, but I knew that she was still under the thrall of the drugs and not herself. She didn’t even look like herself. My grandmother had aged years in days. Her vibrant red hair looked dull. Her glowing complexion was pasty. Her flaming eyes had lost all their luster.
“I will come and see you tomorrow,” I said to her as I kissed her good-bye at the door. I felt both sick and elated, as if I had impossibly succeeded and failed at the same time.
There were tears streaming down her cheeks. Her lips were pale, and there were hollows in her cheeks. Her voice trembled, and she sounded as scared as a child caught up in a nightmare. As she spoke, her eyes widened as if she were seeing the ghost right there in the room beside me.
“Only if you don’t bring her with you. If you do, if you bring that creature with you, I won’t let you in.”
Chapter 21
With my grandmother in the sanatorium, there was no reason for me to remain in the apartment, and I moved into Maison de la Lune on rue des Saints-Pères, bringing the maids and the cook with me. In addition to wanting to be there, I was comforted by the thought that if Benjamin’s detectives had discovered the rue de la Chaise apartment and were watching it, this move would throw them off.