The stories of two women separated by more than a century are brought together by a series of visions that are related to the tarot and a small church, known as a Sepulchre in the grounds of the Domaine de la Cade.
L'âme d'autrui est une forêt obscure où il faut marcher avec précaution. The soul of another is a dark forest in which one must tread carefully.
Letter, 1891 Claude Debussy
The true Tarot is symbolism; it speaks no other language and offers no other signs.
The Pictorial Key to the Tarot, 1910 Arthur Edward Waite
To my wonderful mother, Barbara Mosse, for that first piano
And, as ever, my beloved Greg — for all things present, past and yet to come
This story begins in a city of bones. In the alleyways of the dead. In the silent boulevards, promenades and impasses of the Cimetière de Montmartre in Paris, a place inhabited by tombs and stone angels and the loitering ghosts of those forgotten before they are even cold in their graves. [Prelude]
Léonie Vernier stood on the steps of the Palais Garnier, clutching her chatelaine bag and tapping her foot impatiently. Where is he? [Chapter 1]
But most of all, she thought of Léonie, sleeping peacefully in the ground of the Domaine de la Cade. Air, water, fire, earth. 'Thank you,' Meredith said, as the applause died down. 'And thank you all very much for coming.'