“And you,” Christian asked evasively, “are you utterly with me?”
She answered passionately, and with an imperious smile, as she drew closer to him: “You are more mine than I am yours.”
“Why?”
“Does it frighten you? Are you miserly in your love? Yes, you are more mine. I have broken the spell that held you and melted your soul of stone.”
“Melted my soul...?” Christian asked in amazement.
“I have, my darling. Don’t you know that I’m a sorceress? I have power over the fish in the sea, the horse on the sod, the vulture in the air, and the invisible deities that are spoken of in the books of the Persians. I can make of you what I would, and you must yield.”
“That is true,” Christian admitted.
“But your soul does not look at me,” Eva cried, and flung her arms about him, “it is an alien soul, dark, hostile, unknown.”
“Perhaps you’re misusing the power you have over me, and my soul resists.”