Desiré was a wicked, beautiful temptress even when she was young woman.  Her green eyes had just the slight bit of purple around the irises. Her face was as smooth and soft as the down of a swan with a black heart. Her figure was the envy of every woman in the village.

She was born to a simple farmer and his wife. Men lusted after her, but did not pursue. There was something sinister in her stare, she never said an ill word to the villagers, and never harmed anyone. It was her gaze that caught them off guard and chilled them to the core of their very bones. 

She had those venomous eyes set on one man in particular.

Pierre was the village's favorite carpenter. He was the daytime to the midnight of Desiré. He sang merrily as he worked. Maidens swooned to his renditions of ballads his troubadour father taught him when he was a boy.  They were the songs that made men remember the women they left behind. Children clamored around him and listened to his corny jokes as he carved simple shapes of their favorite animal. But, no matter how many girls dreamed of him, his heart belonged to only one, the widow Du Frey’s daughter Millicent.

Desiré wanted Pierre, more because he was the only man in the village that never looked at her. She desired him. She savored the opportunity to make him hers, and lure his heart away from Millicent, whom she considered plain, unappealing milk toast. At home in the stillness of the shadows, while her parents slept, Desiré cast a spell of love on Pierre. That evening she waited for him in her father’s barn. Upon sight of her lying naked in the hay, a simple touch from her was all it took for the lust to rise in his body. He wanted her, he didn’t understand why, but he did. They lay together and that was the night their son was conceived. 

Pierre was forced to abandon his Millicent. Out of respect for Desire’s parents and his own honor, he married the young witch. He tried to love her, but now that she had him, she never returned his affection. He soon learned why the village folk whispered about Desiré. He knew what they said was true. He could see the devil eye that others feared. He surmised that she only wanted him so she could have the baby. It was also his belief that she only kept him around to provide for her and make her look like a simple woman. He knew she was not. He knew she was evil. He heard her chanting, he smelt her cook vile concoctions.  It was clear. As time went on it was more than just her vicious stare. Anyone who wronged her usually met with a grisly accident. Gentle horses threw their riders, whole families mysteriously died of an unknown affliction.  Women who gossiped about her died in childbirth and it went on and on.

As their son grew, she pampered the boy, whom she named Antoine.  Much to her dismay, the boy had his father’s kind heart, he was more like him except for his uncanny talent. All his work was perfect to the last detail and it never took him long to create his work. As he became a young man, he became a renowned sculptor. His magical work drew much attention. He could mold clay or sculpt granite or wood into anything, perfect in every detail. His work was sought after all over France including Paris. Desiré was delighted. She now had the finest dresses, jewelry and golden trinkets in the village.

But Antoine didn’t want fortune or fame for his work. In fact, other than his green eyes with purple around the irises, he was very much his father‘s son even in looks. Although he was told by many who bought his sculptures and modeled for him that his work was the finest they had ever seen. His beautiful mother even paled in comparison. This did not bother her. She wanted one thing, her son’s love above all his other loves. First there was his pet cat, given to him by Pierre. He loved it, stroked its coat, cooed to it. Desiré hated the creature. She told Antoine that perhaps he should use the feline as his model. He loved the idea and began molding the clay, and as he was finishing she quietly chanted a spell she had learned as a child from the old gypsy, her mentor.

When his creation was finished, the proud artist showed his beloved pet the artistic representation of itself. Shortly after that the poor creature disappeared, nowhere to be found. 

Two months later he was in a nearby town buying art supplies and met a beautiful actress. She made him laugh, and smile again. He brought her home to show her his sculptures. She asked him to draw a rough sketch of her. Desiré watched as the boy brought his new friend to the studio. While he was sketching, his mother walked in, smiled and introduced herself to the young woman. She suggested that perhaps Antoine should honor this lovely actress by making her image immortal in a sculpture.  He created her image in clay, as he had done with his cat. When complete the girl looked at her likeness, in awe of what she saw. She had to sit down, saying she felt a little unwell and soon left, never to be seen again. Antione confided everything to his father. The players in her theatrical troupe had not seen her, no one had seen her anywhere.

Witnessing first the loss of Antione’s cat and later the girl he fancied, Pierre knew this evil came from Desiré. Not long after Pierre introduced his son to a beautiful girl, a girl from the next town whose father hired Pierre to build carriages for his horses.

Desiré heard laughter coming from her son’s studio, specifically female laughter. Pierre was there as well, laughing and smiling at his son and this strange girl.

She saw Antione sculpting clay of the girl, who had her back turned to her. Desire’s right lip pulled up into a smirk. This one wouldn’t last long she thought.

But Antoine saw her in the shadows in the corner of his studio, and called her over to meet his model.
“Mother, this is Estelle.”

Desiré could see the sculpture was almost complete, and the girl seemed to be staring at it. She wondered why this girl was not affected.

“Mother, come, come meet my lady.” Desire’s blood chilled when she thought of any women stealing her son’s love. The girl turned to face her and her eyes looked not at her but straight ahead. It was then Desiré realized the girl was blind. Beautiful and blind.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. Antoine has told me so much about you.” She extended her hand to greet his mother. Desiré did not take hers. She rushed to her son.

“I didn’t know you had a new lady friend dear.” She glared at the girl. “When did this happen?”
Pierre’s face lit up as he looked at his son.

“Papa introduced us in a way. I met Estelle when he asked me to visit her father’s horse farm in Bourgogne and look at the carriages he built for him. He was hoping perhaps I could come up with an idea to specially craft the carriages with some artistic detail. After that, I made up any excuse I could to go there, just so I could visit her.” He squeezed the girl’s hand and smiled at her. “I knew right away she was the girl of my dreams. What do you think of the likeness Mother? I really wish Estelle could see it.”

 “I have felt it, and it’s almost like touching my own face. Antoine is a master.” Said Estelle.
“Oh Mama, guess what? I have a surprise for you. Look!” Said Antoine. “It was papa’s suggestion.”

He lifted a cloth and there was the perfect likeness of Desiré. She tried to look away, but she didn’t turn fast enough. She gave Pierre an icy glare as she felt herself grow weak as if her blood had turned to mud. She felt her very soul leaving. She had to escape. She ran out of the room gasping for the air she would now be denied because of her own magic. As soon as she got beyond the door, she was gone, a mere mist of her own spell.

Antoine rushed out to find her, followed by Pierre (feigning ignorance). As Antione continued the search, Pierre returned alone a little later. He smiled at Estelle, knowing the girl would live and be a lovely bride for his son. Pierre looked at the face on the bust. The eyes directed their gaze at him. He flinched. It was Desiré’s evil eye, but only he noticed it, or so he thought. Estelle moved closer to him and placed her hand on Pierre’s shoulder. He squeezed her hand it in silent communication.

“I may not have my sight, but my other senses are keen. I could feel the evil coming from Desiré.” She said. "My mother practiced magic too. The good kind. Desiré’s spirit still lingers here. It is in that bust. For it to leave you must crash it against the rocks and throw the remnants into the current of the river, and say the Lord's prayer. Then Antoine and all of us will be free of that woman’s evil.” 

The wind howled outside, Antione returned carrying his pet cat, who purred loudly as the young man stroked its coat. Following them was the bewildered actress, with a dazed look upon her face.
“I found my cat and my friend. Unfortunately, she cannot tell me where she was. It is a mystery. Papa, she wants to find her troupe. Can you help her with that?”

Pierre nodded and went to assist the girl.

“I cannot find Mama.” Tears welled in Antoine eyes.

Looking over at the stand where the bust had been Antoine released the cat and rushed to it “What?” He cried. “What happened?”

“I am sorry my heart. It is all my fault. I brushed up against it and accidentally broke it while you were out searching. Pierre knew you would be upset and took it out before you saw it. I am sorry.”

“It is alright, it was an accident. I forgive you my love. Mother must have hated it anyhow, to run away like that.” Said Antione.

Desiré was never heard from again. Her son mourned her, never knowing where she went. He lived his life as a well-respected artist with a loving wife and children of his own, a boy and a girl. The boy, was a talented musician, who played the lute and had a magical ear for music. The girl was beautiful, with green eyes with purple around the irises. They contained just a hint of mischief in them. Antoine named her Desiré, much to Estelle’s dismay.