“D-d…d…do you…do y-you be-be-believe—?” asked the clergyman from within the witch’s bedroom.
“Yes!” cried the witch.
The goat had reached the main door. He turned the knob with his mouth and pushed the door open.
“I believe in God and in the Holy Trinity,” the witch yelled, her hands clenched to the doorway. The goat pulled harder. “I believe in Jesus Christ. I believe in the Holy Spirit. I believe in the purity of Mary—I repent! Hurry up, Father, give me your absolution!”
The goat stepped out through the doorway. The city lights dimmed, turning the moonless night even darker. A black whirlpool had formed in the middle of the canal and from the bottom of it came a mixture of black fumes and sparks, revealing an entrance to a subterranean forge.
The goat gave a stronger pull, yanking the woman free of the door frame. Just then, the young girl, who still refused to surrender, caught her mother’s arm with one hand as she held to the door molding with the other.
“¡Mamá!” Victoria cried from under the table. “Please don’t leave us!”
“Pull harder!” Rosa yelled to her little sister. “Don’t let her go!”
The goat was the one that pulled harder, though. The young girl felt her fingers slip from the door, one by one. She locked her feet to the doorway and grabbed for whatever thing she could reach, which unfortunately happened to be the witch’s finest piece of drapery.
“No!” cried Victoria. “Mamá’s curtains from Paris!”
“My very expensive curtains from Paris,” the witch raised her head. “You’re going to ruin them!”
The curtains started to rip.
“Let go!” cried the mother.
But the girl held on.
Truth be told, the fabric wasn’t exactly from Paris; but it had been just as expensive as if truly imported from France, and touted as legitimately French by the clerk who had sold them to the mother.
The priest found the strength to step out of the witch’s room and pull himself to the entrance. “Do you repent of your sins?”
“Yes!” cried the witch. “I repent with all my heart, Father—Let go of my curtains, you stupid child!”
“Do you renounce Satan and accept our Lord Jesus Christ as your savior?” the priest continued.
“Yes! I do repent, I accept Jesus with all my heart!”
“God, the Father of all mercies…” started the priest.
“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” the witch hollered to her daughter.
“…through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins…”
“MY CURTAINS FROM PARIS…!”
The witch bit her daughter’s hand, but no matter how fierce she sounded, or how much her teeth hurt, the young girl refused to let her go.
“You’re running Mami’s curtains!” Rosa kicked the young girl.
Victoria joined the fight too, giving her little sister a couple of knocks on her head.
The goat kept pulling. Eventually, the pressure was too much and the curtains tore. The young girl fell to the floor and hit her jaw, chopping off the tip of her tongue in the process. The pain was too much. She let her mother’s hand go.
“MY CURTAINS!”
The cry was like the barking of the Trojan queen, threatening the Greeks for her enslavement and the death of her children.
“A CURSE ON YOU!” the witch continued as the goat dragged her across the yard towards the crack in the middle of the canal. “A CURSE ON YOU AND ALL YOUR DESCENDANTS! YOU’RE NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU’RE A BEAST! The plague on you! May you age unloved and alone, and may you rot in hell, forever! Father, don’t forget the oil!” the witch howled, remembering she hadn’t yet obtained her absolution.
The whirlpool grew to the shape of a beast’s muzzle. A few demons poked their heads up out of the hole and gestured obscenely at the priest.
“Through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace.” The priest reached for the vial of consecrated oil inside his jacket. “I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
And just before the goat gave one last pull to jump inside the infernal mouth with his bounty, the priest splashed a few drops of consecrated oil on the penitent woman’s head. The moment the oil touched her skin, the demon let go. He looked back, terrified by the power vested in the Father, and jumped alone into the canal. The waters closed behind him. Just as fast as the mouth disappeared, the little demons left behind vanished in clouds of dust and sparkles.
Rosa and Victoria ran to the moribund woman.
“My beautiful daughters,” the woman said, in a much calmer voice. “My two angels. My kittens. I thank the Lord for letting me say goodbye to you. Victoria, let me kiss your hand. Let me see your beautiful eyes. You were always my favorite… I die now, in peace.”
And she perished.
“Passio Domini nostri Jesu Christi, merita Beatae Mariae Virginis et omnium sanctorum, quidquid boni feceris vel mali sustinueris sint tibi in remissionem peccatorum, augmentum gratiae et praemium vitae aeternae. Amen,” the priest concluded.
All of a sudden, the clouds above opened up revealing a starry firmament. Everything acquired a flushed tonality and a soft breeze caressed the faces of the two girls as the ghost of their mother raised from her dead body straight to heaven.
“I’ll be watching you, my daughters,” the spirit murmured.
She looked as young and pure as she must have looked on the day of her marriage. She had obtained God’s forgiveness.
“We repent too, Father,” cried the two sisters. “We don’t want to burn in Hell. Give us your blessing!”
6
In which the two eldest sisters move to the city
Oh despair! Oh misfortune! When the witch’s husband returned to the house the next morning, he was hit by the smell of marigolds and burning candles. He entered the house and saw the long faces of the three girls, his in-laws, and his neighbors all standing against the wall, and the body of his wife set on the dining table, dressed in her wedding gown, surrounded by flowers. He fell on his knees, asking for forgiveness.
“Why, oh Lord! Why did you have to take her?”
Cries, whimpers, and sorrow!
Everyone stepped aside. The drunkard reeked of beer and urine. He fooled none of the mourners in the room, not the way his wife had for all those years.
Someone whispered into the ear of another: “Poor Antonia! Married to this awful man who did not deserve her! What will become of the poor girls?”
“The two elder will end up in the streets, you’ll see. Selling their bodies.”
The first elbowed the second. Rosa had overheard them.
“You must be strong. For your daughters,” a kinder soul said to the drunkard.
“I’ll find a job,” the man announced, standing tall among the mourners. “I’ll become a gondolier and I’ll provide for them! I’ll give them everything they never had, to honor my wife’s memory.”
Rosa and Victoria bobbed their heads, extolling his decision.
“We’ll be good girls, too,”