The horror of these revelations is only diminished by the grace and kindness of the messenger herself. Listening to Gabriella, I am reminded of the dark fairy tales my mother would recite to me when I was a child, and how they never really frightened me because her voice was the most soothing sound in the world.

Had someone suggested earlier that I could share so much in common with a widowed Jewess, I never would have believed it. However, I have spent more time with Gabriella than anyone since Camilla’s passing. We pass hours in easy conversation. Her passion for the art of healing surpasses even mine. Her knowledge of the writings of Galen, the Roman father of all medicine, is exceptional.

We are bound by more than just a shared interest in medicine. I had always assumed Gabriella and her husband to have been as childless as Camilla and I were. Yesterday, I told her of our despair over the many miscarriages and the one stillbirth Camilla experienced. Then I admitted what I had not shared with anyone before, not even to a priest in confessional: my wife blamed herself for our fate. Camilla believed that she must have been a sinner to have remained so barren. As I hurried to explain that I was not suggesting Gabriella was also somehow responsible for her own childlessness, she interrupted me.

I was not childless, Doctor Pasqua. I had Ester.

You had a daughter?

Ester was four years old when Jehovah took her.

I am so sorry. How did it happen?

She was bitten by a dog.

A stray attacked her?

No, the neighbor’s mutt. Ester loved the old dog, even though he was near death and crippled by rheumatism. She would rub his belly and scratch behind his ears. One day, the cur’s ear was swollen, so when Ester went to touch it, he bit her on the finger. It was little more than a nip. I thought nothing of it until a week later when Ester developed a high fever. And then her limbs began to stiffen.

With the lockjaw?

Yes. Ester did not survive another day after the first spasm.

I was at a loss for words. Even before this pestilence struck, I had seen too many children die from all manner of illness or accident. However, I was particularly saddened to learn that Gabriella lost her only child to such a cruel and casual whim of fate. I almost reached out to take her hand in mine, but I stopped myself before committing an act of such impropriety.

Her eyes welled with tears, but I was surprised to see her lips form a melancholic, yet almost joyful smile. Every day I had with Ester was a blessing, she said. I am grateful for each one. God did not take her from me to punish my sins, any more than Camilla’s barrenness was a penalty for hers.

I agree, I said. I only wish Camilla had believed it.