The Oracle Glass Read Online Free PDF

happiness”—the fortune-teller’s voice faded out—“more youthful…” I heard, and I saw her take a little vial out of the drawer in the table. Mother hid it inside her corset. Excellent, I thought. When had Mother ever refused a remedy that promised to restore her fading youth? Now if all those creams actually worked, judging by the number of people selling them, all of Paris would have faces as smooth as a baby’s bottom. “If he remains hard and indifferent…bring his shirt…a Mass to Saint Rabboni…” Fascinating. One trip multiplied into several, with corresponding payments.
    â€œAnd now, for the cross I bear daily,” said Mother, getting up and pushing me forward. “Tell us all what will happen to a girl with a heart as twisted as her body.”
    The fortune-teller looked first at Mother, then at me, with an appraising eye. “What you really want to know,” she pronounced coolly, “is whether this child will inherit money—money concealed in a foreign country.” This was not what I’d expected. I looked at the fortune-teller’s face. She was looking me over carefully, as if taking my measure. Then her dark eyes inspected my sweaty little palm.
    â€œUnusual, this…,” she said, and Mother and Marie-Angélique crowded closer to look. “You see this line of stars, formed here? One indicates fortune. Three—that’s entirely uncommon. It is a very powerful sign.” Even the fortune-teller seemed impressed. It was quite gratifying.
    â€œA fortune, an immense fortune,” Mother hissed. “I knew it. But I must know. In what country is the fortune hidden? Can you use your arts to divine the name of the banker?”
    â€œStars formed on the palm never indicate what sort of fortune or where it is located, only that it involves great changes, and that it’s good in the end. You will need a more specific divination to answer your question—a divination by water. There will be an extra charge for the preparation of the water.” Mother’s mouth shut up tight like a purse. “Very well,” she said, looking resentful. The fortune-teller rang a little bell, and when the maid appeared she consulted with her. “The gift of water divination is a rare one, usually found only in young virgins—and so, of course, in this wicked world, it does not last long, does it?” Her sharp, sarcastic laugh was echoed by mother’s silvery “company” laugh. I wished we could leave now. This was quite enough.
    The maid reappeared with a glass stirring rod and a round crystal vase full of water on a tray. She was accompanied by a neatly dressed girl my own age, with brown hair combed back tightly and a sullen expression. The fortune-teller’s daughter.
    The fortune-teller stirred the water with the rod, chanting something that sounded like “ Mana, hoca, nama, nama .” Then she turned to me and said, “Put your palms around the glass—no, not that way. Yes. Good. Now take them away.” The little girl peered down into the vase, which was all sticky with my palm prints, as the water became smooth again.
    They had done something very interesting with the water. A tiny image seemed to form out of its depths, clear and bright like the reflection of an invisible object. It was a face. The strange, lovely face of a girl in her twenties, gray eyes staring back at me, black hair blowing about her pale face, the wind whipping a heavy gray cloak she held tightly around her. She was leaning on the rail of a ship that bobbed up and down on an invisible ocean. How had the sorceress made the image appear? Mother and Marie-Angélique were watching the fortune-teller’s face, but I only had eyes for the tiny picture. The fortune-teller spoke to her daughter:
    â€œNow, Marie-Marguerite, what do you see?”
    â€œThe ocean, Mother.”
    â€œBut how did you make