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“Oh, my dear friend—do not think that. Look, I wasn’t going to tell you—I saw his widow yesterday. It was said he spent their whole marriage ignoring her, despondent over some other lost love.”

Ginevra didn’t know what to make of all this—of the sentimental brooch, now pinned to Lucia, of this purported pining. What good did any of it do for her, except to make it difficult to feel justified in her anger. “Maybe he acted this way after I was gone. But before he missed me and commissioned jewels in my name, he stood to the side so his uncle the bishop could order me mutilated, so the old inquisitor could take away the funds from my convent and leave the women in their charge with nowhere to go.”

Lucia sat back in her chair. “Well, it is a bit hard to defend him, when you put it that way.”

The pair lapsed into silence.

Ginevra felt badly, then, for ruining the mood when Lucia was just trying to be kind. “Maybe, though, there is still a nice rich man somewhere. Or two, why not? One for each of us.”

“Handsome brothers,” said Lucia, appreciating the distraction of this new game. “The elder for you and the younger for me. Assuming, of course, my present husband dies.”

“Oh, he’s sure to, one of these days. Just like my Ludovico.”

“Then we can be with good men, and we’ll take them up here to enjoy the cool air—”

“And the streets wouldn’t be so quiet. We’ll hear the sounds again of neighbors returning before curfew—”

A loud BANG echoed up from the interior courtyard.

“What now??” said Lucia.

But Ginevra knew the sound exactly. “No, no, no, no.”

She ran down to the cellar with a sinking feeling and a lamp held aloft. It was as she feared: the lid had exploded off her jar and a honey-colored film covered everything. The eels were at the surface of their well, investigating the strange globules that now floated in their home, swallowing and spitting them back out.

Lucia entered right after. “My well! My eels!”

“They’ll be fine... I think...” said Ginevra, distractedly. She held the lamp over the jar. “Oh, no, oh, no...there’s hardly any left...and the bloodstones... Oh, they’re gone! I cannot try another batch. I am the stupidest woman on the earth.”

“Ginevra, you’re not! Don’t say such a thing.”

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I should have been tending it, sitting by it. I don’t understand. I left the opening askew...”

Lucia blanched. “Left askew?”

“Yes—to keep it from bursting. I don’t understand.”

“Oh. Oh, Ginevra, I’m so sorry. I came down here to get the wine and I saw your jar was leaking. I knew the substance was precious so I refastened the lid... Oh, dear, I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

Ginevra looked up slowly from the jar. “Why would you touch this? You don’t even know how to make bread. Why would you assume—”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I feel awful, stupid, just please tell me what to do to make it right. I’ll go find more cats, or if you need money to buy ingredients, my purse is yours!”

For a long time, Ginevra said nothing, but clutched at the coral pendant through her dress. It was warm. As the peacock had warned, the malocchio hovered nearby, aroused by her anger. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. When she spoke again, it was slow and full of effort.

“You were only trying to help. I can’t make another batch unless we can find the bloodstones. I can’t cure anyone else unless we find the bloodstones. I’m not sure where they’ve gone.” When she mentioned the lost jewels, her eyes flashed with the anger her words did not express.

“We’ll find them—I’ll find them!” said Lucia hastily. “They’ve got to be in this room somewhere.” But after going round on hands and knees, raking over the earthen floor with their fingers and shining their light to the bottom of the well, the gemstones were still missing.

“Oh, God, I’m a useless woman. Any brewer’s wife would have known not to do what I just did... Look! There is still a bit that clings to the inside of the jar. Perhaps it can be useful?” She reached out to grab it.

“Don’t! Just don’t touch it. I’ll do it.”

“We could go pray to San Antonio. He’ll help us find them.”

“Just go to bed. You’ve done enough. I’ll keep looking...”

“If anyone should keep looking, it’s me. You take what is left in the jar and go to the Girolami. By the time you are back, I’ll have found the stones and—”