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immediately.

Chapter 11
    S HE WOKE UP IN A STATE OF GREAT CONFUSION, HER head held in place by a rough piece of cloth wrapped around her temples. She almost screamed. The thick blindfold reminded her of the cataplasms to which she had been confined as a child and which had left her with eczema for months. Then she remembered that Mesmer had mentioned protecting her eyes from the light, and she was instantly relieved. What had happened the night before was a miracle. The blackness had ceased being a homogeneous mass.
    She wanted to open her eyes to try again, but the blindfold kept her eyelids tightly shut.
    She called Anna, who appeared immediately by her side.
    “Ah, you’re there?”
    “The Professor said to help you when you woke up.”
    “Tell him I will be ready in an hour.”
    “He went to Vienna to meet Madame Mesmer. They will be back in a few days. In the meantime I’m supposed to tighten your blindfold every morning and ask you not to try to open your eyes until he returns. Would you like your breakfast?”
    Maria Theresia felt wounded, almost betrayed. How could he begin the treatment and then disappear?
    “How will the other patients manage?”
    “There are two nurses in the pavilion who tend to them as I tend to you. You’re my only patient. I’ll go to the kitchen and get your meal.”
    By habit, Maria Theresia counted Anna’s footsteps as she walked away. Twenty-seven. She was hot. She pushed away the comforter. How long was “a few days”? How many hours until she would see she shadows and smell the musk? She was in a hurry to start the treatment again. No. She was not going to lie to herself. She wanted to be back in his company. She was less in a rush to get better than she was eager to be with him. She shook her head to chase away these disturbing thoughts. The blindfold was uncomfortable. It tugged at her hair. How could she miss someone she barely knew? If he managed to cure her, she didn’t know how sight would affect her senses, but this impatience that took hold of her was something new.
    She had learned from Nina that Madame Mesmer’s face was pretty but plump and that her figure had thickened in keeping with her age. Maria Theresia hated the fact that she remembered this gossip. “I’m no better than the servants.”
    She spent the following days composing on the stiff piano keys a fugue that Anna described as “melancholic” and that she herself found dark, as if her tetchy mood had been translated into a disquieting, haunting tempo. She decided to call the piece “While Awaiting the Storm,” because the Vienna sky was heavy and oppressive. Maria Theresia leaned her head toward the open window in hope of detecting a refreshing breeze, but none came. The city was at a standstill, on its guard. Both she and Vienna seemed to be holding their breath.
    He came back with a bouquet of violets. “The same color as your moods,” he said as he placed them on a pedestal table near the piano. He explained that he would remove her blindfold that evening. He preferred to wait for the sun to set, to avoid exposing her to bright light.
    He started to set off to greet his other patients in the pavilion. She offered to accompany him, but he declined. His embarrassment surprised her.
    “I won’t be a burden, and I won’t stare at anyone unbecomingly,” she said mockingly. His refusal had hurt her.
    “Don’t underestimate yourself.”
    Mesmer walked away from the piano. He started pacing around the room. His footsteps seemed to mirror the progression of his thoughts.
    “I have four patients there—three of them are women. They’d be jealous seeing you at my side. It would endanger their recovery.”
    Maria Theresia burst out laughing.
    “Are they all so attached to you?”
    His footsteps grew heavier, faster.
    “Magnetism brings to pass a stage of intensity between the patient and the doctor. The relation I have with each of them is unique, and I want them to experience it as