19
Maison Cinsault, 4 December 1870
Johann found Madame Cinsault in her husband’s study. Unlike the previous week, it was relatively warm with a fire in the grate. Madame stood by one of the windows and barely turned to acknowledge him when he entered.
“Ah, Maestro,” she said. “I’m glad you could come.”
As a connoisseur of women’s voices and tones—mostly so he could know when he was in trouble—Johann picked up that she spoke not with flirtatious intent but with a panicked edge.
“Is something wrong, Madame?”
“Come see.” She gestured for him to join her at the window. Once he stood beside her, she traced a shape that had been etched on the outside of the window.
Johann felt the same sort of rush when he stepped on stage and knew his father and brothers were in the audience. In other w
