The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1216: Chapter 140: Germany Witchcraft (Part 2)

Heine was furious when he heard that Great Dumas actually exposed his secrets in front of his enemies: “Alexander, I trusted you as a friend to tell you these things, how could you reveal everything?”

Unexpectedly, Disraeli couldn’t help but laugh loudly upon hearing this: “You actually believed Alexander? Back when I shared some little secrets with him, not long after, ‘Red and Black’ was published!”

Heine glared at him fiercely: “Then it seems you’re a donkey yourself.”

Disraeli’s laughter abruptly stopped, but before he could retort, he heard Heine speak up again.

“Mr. Disraeli, don’t rush to insult me, because what I just said is backed by evidence. You called me ‘ha—hoo,’ thinking it’s an insult to me personally, but in fact, it’s an insult to all Jewish people, including you and me.”

Heine continued: “When I was young, those guys called me that all the time. They laughed so hard while I ended up crying uncontrollably. I went home to complain to my mother, but she taught me that I should study hard and become smart, so everyone wouldn’t confuse me with a donkey.

But she didn’t realize that this had nothing to do with studying or not. And Jews like you would also think such mockery is directed only at me. In fact, at school, older kids would greet me this way, and younger kids would do the same while keeping their distance from me for fear of a beating.

In class, whenever the topic involved donkeys, everyone would secretly glance at me and they would deliberately invent jokes and insulting words to ridicule me.

For example, one of them might ask another: ‘How do you distinguish between a zebra and Balaam’s donkey—the son of Bor?’ The answer was: ‘The former speaks Zebraic (German zebra), the latter speaks Hebrew (Balaam was an Israelite in the Bible).’

Then they would ask: ‘What’s the difference between that trash Mitchell’s donkey and its namesake?’ The shameless answer was: ‘We don’t know what the difference is!’

Everyone present hearing this joke couldn’t help but burst into laughter, even Disraeli, who was Jewish, wasn’t an exception.

Upon seeing this scene, Heine couldn’t help but get furious, but soon he seemed resigned to it, shaking his head: “I really don’t know what’s funny about this joke. You all think so, and my childhood playmates were the same. Even my best friends had to joke about my name.”

After speaking, Heine fiercely stared at Disraeli, warning him: “Don’t blame me for not warning you, Mr. Disraeli, I know a witch who understands spells.”

Disraeli was laughing heartily, but when he heard Heine intended to curse him, as a pseudoscience enthusiast and agnostic, Disraeli was suddenly taken aback.

Everyone knew that Germany’s witches were as famous as Prussia’s soldiers in Europe.

Not only Disraeli, but Great Dumas was also immediately drawn in by the important information Heine revealed: “Magic… are you talking about Black Magic? Witchcraft?”

Seeing the two intimidated, Heine mysteriously added: “Of course, the witch lives in my hometown of Dusseldorf, I got to know her when I was sixteen. Although I didn’t become a wizard, I know how she performs witchcraft.”

Arthur hearing this also became interested, although he always felt it was feudal superstition, but he already had a Devil by his side, what could be more superstitious than that?

Arthur pursued further: “How does she perform witchcraft?”

Heine glanced at them, then put his finger on his lips: “Shh! Let’s talk in a quieter place.”

The four found a quiet office, drew the curtains, locked the door, then Heine sat back in a chair, cleared his throat, and said: “The witch I know, her husband was a despised executioner before he died, so everyone knew he left behind many unspeakable recipes after his death. Her best customer is the pub owner, she sold the pub the dead man’s fingers. According to her, these fingers were her husband’s relics, and they could make the beer in the barrels taste better…”

Arthur, hearing this, felt sick in his stomach, he glanced at the Red Devil by the table, seemingly looking for answers from him.

Agares didn’t hold back, he just sneered: “Tricks of the trade, soaking cat paws, bear paws, using dried wood to impersonate dead men’s fingers, this profession is still so retro.”

Great Dumas upon hearing this couldn’t help but swallow: “That… that means if I go to Dusseldorf to drink beer, the beer there might have soaked dead man’s fingers?”

“Isn’t it?” Heine solemnly said: “But selling dead man’s fingers isn’t her main business, this lady is also popular among young lovers. She offers lovers a love potion…”

“A love potion?!”

“My God! Is there such a good thing?”

Disraeli and Great Dumas upon hearing this name, the two social veterans each had eyes glowing.

Heine coughed: “This potion is called Feltarrium, of course, it’s not effective in all circumstances, sometimes it can even have the opposite effect. For instance, a young man failed to win the favor of a beauty and persuaded her to drink a bottle of wine with him, secretly pouring Feltarrium into her glass.

Once she drank the potion, he discovered the beauty’s behavior changed oddly, her face showed a certain reserved and embarrassed expression, the young man considered this as a sign of awakening passions, thinking the enchanting moment was near. Alas! When he forcefully embraced the blushing beauty, a strong scent hit his nose, only then he belatedly realized this was not the fragrant aroma emanating from the God of love. The young man ended up making a fool of himself.”

Arthur, Great Dumas, and others understood Heine’s story protagonist.

This incident was even more embarrassing than ‘ha—hoo,’ so they knowingly didn’t expose Heine, pretending to be in the dark, listening to this fellow continue with ‘I have a friend’ story.

“After this incident, the lady to recover her spell reputation, claimed to misunderstand the intentions of the unfortunate young man, thinking he wanted to cure his lovesickness and break off his feelings completely. And when that young man demanded the genuine potion, she finally unleashed her ultimate technique.”

Great Dumas eagerly asked: “Did she bring out that potion?”

“No.”

Heine shook his head: “She gave the young man a piece of advice, which was more precious than the potion.”

“What advice.”

Heine scratched his ear: “She advised her young followers to always have some money in their pockets, gold is very healthy and especially brings good luck to a devoted man.”

“Enough, enough.”

“This witch is a complete fraud. I suggest the Vatican should send someone to burn her alive.”

“You two change your tune awfully fast.” Heine emphasized: “I assure you, she does have magic power. Although this magic wasn’t cast on me, I personally witnessed her casting a spell making someone and his newlywed wife infertile. They were married for years without having children.”