manifest that which I desire, being conjured by the Name of the Eternal, Living and True God, Heliorem.'
Madame de Rougemont paused, and the ensuing silence was broken by the unmistakable sound of a coin falling to the floor and spiralling around to a tremulous halt.
'An apport,' said Cosima von Rath.
Frau Holderlin nodded vigorously in agreement.
'I conjure thee,' Yvette de Rougemont continued, 'also by the particular and true Name of thy God to whom thou owest thine obedience; by the name of the King who rules over thee, do thou come without tarrying; come, fulfil my desires; persist unto the end, according to mine intentions.'
There was a strange skittering. Something like tiny claws on hardwood. Only Liebermann and Rheinhardt turned, peering into the blackest and furthest corner of the room. Frau Holderlin leaned a little closer to Liebermann and whispered a curt admonishment: 'No, Herr Doctor. Do not look into the darkness.'
Liebermann wanted to ask
But recognising his anomalous position as an interloper, he smiled politely instead and returned his attention to Madame de Rougemont. In the poor light the medium's black satin dress was almost invisible, making her head look unattached to her body. Her serene face floated in space like a bubble of ectoplasm.
'I conjure thee by Him to Whom all creatures are obedient, by this ineffable Name, Tetragrammaton Jehovah, by which the elements are overthrown, the air is shaken, the sea turns back, fire is generated.' The candle suddenly sputtered and Liebermann felt Natalie Heck grip his hand more tightly. 'The Earth moves and all the hosts of things celestial, of things terrestrial, of things infernal, do tremble and are confounded together; speak unto me!'
Yvette de Rougemont's injunction was swallowed by a hungry silence. A chair creaked, and Liebermann detected a slight asthmatic whistle in Frau Holderlin's lungs.
The moment of anticipation unfurled like a roll of cloth, and with each revolution the suspense intensified. Finally, a beneficent smile lifted Madame de Rougemont's anxious features.
'I see him . . .' she murmured, her voice shaking with suppressed excitement. 'He is here. Oh welcome, Spirit. Welcome, Morax.'
Liebermann felt a movement of air, the slightest draught, as though a door had been slammed in another, distant room. The candle flame twisted and flared – a wisp of blue smoke ascended. Madame de Rougemont's spirit guide had apparently arrived.
'Welcome,' whispered the others. Frau Holderlin and Natalie Heck released Liebermann's hands.
'Morax,' began the Frenchwoman, 'we – who live in ignorance – beg you to help us. We wish to contact our sister Charlotte who recently passed from this world to the next, from darkness to light.'
In the agitated lambency of the flickering candle, Yvette de Rougemont's face suddenly took on a different cast: her brow furrowed and her jaw projected forward. Her eyelids fluttered and opened, revealing nothing but the glistening whites of her eyes. Speaking in a convincing masculine voice that was completely free of any Gallic inflections, she said: 'She is here, Madame.' Several among the company gasped, and Liebermann noticed that the Count had placed a hand over his heart. 'I see a young woman, with golden hair and a smile of such radiance . . . but she cannot rest. Her soul is deeply troubled. What ails thee, maid? Why can you not avail yourself of eternal peace? Ahh . . . I was murdered, says she, and I cannot rest until this wicked creature is brought to book . . .' The medium's voice reverted back to its usual soprano register and her eyelids closed. 'Then her soul was not taken by a demon?' 'No, Madame,' came her own tenor reply – the whites of her eyes showing again. 'She was killed by a mortal, with nothing more than mortal means . . . and this wicked creature sits among you – this very night.'
Natalie Heck let out a small cry, which was followed by an outburst of prayers and protests. Frau Holderlin crossed herself, and Cosima von Rath produced a large handkerchief which she dabbed against her forehead. 'Oh Madame,' she whispered, 'oh Madame . . .' Zaborszky muttered, 'Jesu, Jesu.' Bruckmuller stared impassively at the candle, and Holderlin placed an arm around his wife's shoulders. Liebermann caught Braun's eye. The young man smiled cynically, shrugged his shoulders and looked away.
'Is there one among you whose name is Natalie?' asked Madame de Rougemont in the ponderous voice of Morax.
Even in the half-light it was possible to see that the seamstress had gone quite pale. She shook her head violently. 'No,' she whispered, 'it wasn't me, I swear.'
'Natalie,' Morax declaimed. 'The maiden has a message for you.'
The general agitation subsided – and the room became utterly silent. The candle spat, and a droplet of hot wax fell like a plumb line, leaving an exiguous thread in its wake.
'Natalie?'
Liebermann felt the little seamstress sitting beside him flinch.
'Yes,' she said warily. 'I am here'
'How you loved my butterfly brooch.'
'I did, I did . . .'
'I want you to have it. How pretty you will look, with my brooch pinned to your white summer dress.'
Natalie Heck clapped a hand to her mouth, then looking around at the others cried: 'I
Morax continued: 'Is there one among you called Otto?'
'Yes,' said Braun, sitting up straight. 'My name is Otto.'
The medium tilted her head to one side as though listening carefully. Then, still in the person of her spirit guide, she said: 'Otto, how foolish you have been. You have chosen a headlong path that will end in despair. What is meat to the body is sometimes poison to the soul.' The young man seemed mildly perplexed, but nothing more. Then, after a slight pause, Yvette de Rougemont added: 'Remember the Danube. Remember Baden . . . and the poor widow. There is no sin so small that it can escape the notice of the divine auditor – no punishment is overlooked. Repent!' The voice of Morax became louder. 'Behold, ye have sinned against the Lord: and be sure your sin will find you out.'
Braun's expression changed. He was no longer superior, indifferent and contemptuous. Now he looked confused. Heck threw him a sharp glance.
'But how . . .' He looked anxiously at Madame de Rougemont. She did not respond but sat perfectly still, the candlelight glittering in the nacreous sockets of her skull.
'Count Zoltan Zaborszky,' Morax proclaimed. 'How sad you are. I feel your sadness. It is like a canker, eating away at your heart. I see a great and noble house betrayed. A family in despair.'
The Count crossed himself, bowed his head, and pressed his jewel-encrusted fingers together in the attitude of prayer.
'Heinrich? Is there one present called Heinrich?'
Liebermann was sitting directly opposite Holderlin. He could see the sheen of perspiration on the man's forehead.
'Heinrich,' Morax proclaimed. 'I have something important to tell you . . .'
Frau Holderlin looked at her husband – her face showed suspicion and concern.
'No!' cried Holderlin. He stood up abruptly and banged his fist on the table. The candle jumped and the shadows chased each other out of corners and across the ceiling. 'No, this cannot go on. It is unnatural – I am sorry, but I must insist that we bring this meeting to an end.'
'Morax?' Yvette de Rougemont's voice had returned to normal, and her eyelids had closed; however, her intonation was now weak and dreamy. 'Morax – where are you?'
'Herr Holderlin, you must sit down!' shouted Zaborszky. 'Madame de Rougemont is still in contact with the spirit world! You are placing her in great danger.'
'No, I will
Without warning, Yvette de Rougemont's eyes suddenly opened. For a few moments, her expression was vacant. Then the contours of her face shifted to produce a fixed mask of fear. Her lips began to tremble. Opening her mouth wide, she released a chilling, sustained wail. Its rapid rise in pitch and volume was followed by a prolonged and steady descent – which left her clutching at her throat. Choking sounds were followed by a liquid rattle. Then she slumped forwards onto the table, flinging her arms out, knocking over the candle – and plunging the
