She could see not the slightest change in the image after ever so long a time, though her eyes never left it. The incense was slowly consumed, and Hortense arose and added more. Still she watched, endlessly it seemed, until finally her eyes closed and she must have slept for a little, for when she opened them again the moonlight was far brighter than before and the image stood out in the fanciful shadows.
Yes, surely, the hand that now lay open had been raised and closed before. And the eyes looked at her instead of over her! Her heart beat quicker.
"You have moved," she said without thinking.
There was a slight stir of the bronze lips; then a soft measured voice said, "I wait, what is it you ask?"
"I should like," Hortense said, "to get back my charm."
"Jeremiah has it," said the Image, "and Jeremiah is getting to be a nuisance. I shall have to cut his claws."
How the Image could cut Jeremiah's claws, Hortense didn't see.
"That is to say," the Image went on, "he needs to be taken down."
Down to what, Hortense wondered. She sat a long while waiting for the Image to say more, but apparently it had gone back to sleep.
"Dear me, how slow it is!" Hortense said to herself. "I suppose it's like Grandfather's Clock and has all the time in the world."