In the darkness the old woman was heard mumbling the senseless disconnected words of an incantation.
'Emen Hetan, Emen Hetan, Palu, Baalberi, Astaroth, help us. Agora, Agora, Patrisa, come and help us!'
Cassandra eagerly snuffed the strong odour of the unguent. Her skin burned; her head swam; delicious thrills ran down her back. Red and green interlacing circles swam before her eyes, she heard the abandoned stridulous voice of Monna Sidonia as if from afar.
'Garr-r! Garr-r-r! Up! Up! Don't knock your head! We fly! We fly!'
VII
Forth from the chimney-top flew Cassandra astride on the soft hide of a black goat. Ravished, panting, with exaltation filling her soul, she screamed like a young swift, plunging for the first time through the blue air.
'Garr-r! Up! Up! We fly! We fly!'
The deformed and withered body of Aunt Sidonia flew beside her on a broomstick; her thin hair streaming in the blast.
'To the north! To the north!' yelled the hag, managing her broomstick like a horse.