“Vanished?”
“She married a woodsman and disappeared.”
“Well, then. She is likely living on one of the more distant seigneuries if she has married a woodsman. They will come to town now and again, to sell their firewood.”
“No. I believe they have travelled upcountry to trade furs. Never to be seen again.”
“Oh Lili.” Marthe sighed. Her sister was seeing only darkness when there were shards of light everywhere. She need only turn towards the sun. “You don’t know that. Who is to say that she might not return home in the summer, when the fur fair starts up again?”
“She could be anywhere in a thousand forests. I am forever cursed.”
Marthe gave in and put her hands on top of Élisabeth’s. “You will see her again. In the meantime, do not succumb to these bleak thoughts of possession—”
Élisabeth leapt up, pushing back the stool so hard that it let out a screech as it scraped across the floor. “How can I not? You do not understand how much I suffer!”
Marthe was on her feet quickly, looking over her shoulder to see if the widow had heard them. She put a hand on Élisabeth’s back, hoping tosoothe her into silence. “Tell me, then. Tell me about your suffering. Quietly, though.”
“There must be a demon inside me. I know what you believe, Marthe, that I am not like the demoniac you and Nicolas saw. But what else can explain all of these sensations inside of me?” Élisabeth’s voice was rising again.
“Do be quiet,” Marthe pleaded.
“On the ship I heard the old priest tell the captain what to watch for. He said fatigue was a sure sign of possession. You saw me, Marthe—I could not rise from my bunk for weeks!”
“You broke your crown, Lili.”
“But the strength! The unholy strength that allowed me to attack those men! I know I have not had a fit as yet, but what if that is still to come? What if it is only a matter of time before I’m grunting like a pig, or—or howling and gnashing teeth like a wolf, and sticking out a long, slithering snake’s tongue—”
“Oh, ma chère! What horrors you describe.”
Maman Poulin peered around the corner, her black eyes glittering. Marthe froze as the widow stepped into the room. “Tell me, what manner of creature do you speak of? Is it a goblin? Or a demon?”
Marthe stiffened. How much had the widow heard?
“Y-yes,” Élisabeth blanched. “A demon.”
Marthe stood up. “Lili,” she said cautiously. “This is Barbe, the widow Poulin, whose husband was once the baker here. She lives in our house still. Barbe, this is my sister, Élisabeth.”
“Lili? What a pretty name. You must call me Maman Poulin. I’ve lived in this village long enough to have everyone call me mother.” The widow curtseyed and Élisabeth followed suit. “Now tell me, what sort of demon grunts and barks and has the tongue of a serpent?”
“I don’t know,” Élisabeth said nervously.
“Where did you see it?”
“She hasnotseen it,” Marthe interrupted before Élisabeth had a chance to confess to anything. “My sister heard the story from a woman who passed through our village in Normandy. The woman angered a witch, so the hag sent a demon to plague her. Lili was just telling me how she still worries about the poor cursed soul. My sister has a very sentimental nature.” Marthe kept her voice so steady she wondered at her own ability to spin a tale from the air. Maman Poulin’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then her face crumpled into a picture of concern.
“It is a most cruel thing to be cursed by a witch,” she sympathized, shaking her head. “Why, there was a girl here in New France who was cursed, several years ago now. By a male witch, if you can imagine! A filthy Huguenot. He sent demons to harass her when she refused to marry him. Then he poisoned the air so that the children could not breathe. They died in droves, gasping for breath, poor lambs. I will never forget the sound.”
“What happened to the girl?” Élisabeth rose from her stool anxiously.
“She recovered once they caught and killed the witch, thank God. She went on to marry and have a dozen children. But it was not the only time it has happened here. There was also once a nun who was plagued with a demon. Satan himself came to her at night, as cold to the touch as the dead.”
“Satan was here in Ville-Marie?” Élisabeth whispered, crossing herself. Marthe watched uneasily as she took a step closer to the widow. She did not need Maman Poulin filling her sister’s head with dark tales. In the distance, church bells started to ring.
“Lili, the bells!” Marthe leapt on the distraction. “We must go or we’ll be late for Apolline’s wedding.”
“It’s only a few strides to the Hôtel Dieu from here, and the first bells are but a warning that it is time to gather,” Maman Poulin said without looking at Marthe. She patted Élisabeth’s arm. “How fortunate to be wed on a Monday,don’t you think? The charm from yesterday’s holy sacrament will still be upon them. Now, tell me more about this dreadful demon.”
Maman Poulin pulled Élisabeth into a snug hold and led her out of the bakery. Marthe could do nothing but follow behind, her sister’s shadow.
