“I see the reflection of a maiden’s face,” replied Yolande, “and she is very fair, fairer than I.”
The white witch then turned the other side of the mirror towards her. “Look again, Yolande,” said she, “what is it now that you see?”
“A hideous, terrible wolf’s face!” cried Yolande, shrinking back, “old and grey, with grinning teeth, and a mouth red and gaping, and hungry eyes.”
“It is the face of a were-wolf,” replied the white witch, “and we must force the black witch to remove her spell from your lover.” She stood and considered for a moment. “Wait for me here,” she said at last, and took flight in the shape of a gull. As twilight fell she returned. “I have found out,” said she, “that the black witch is brewing a charm for which she requires many herbs, and none so much as myrrh. She will therefore go to church this evening, in the hope of snatching a little myrrh out of the censer as it swings. If only pure prayers mount with the incense, she will be foiled in her attempt; but if a single vengeful or presumptuous prayer is offered, the myrrh will be within her power to take. You must slip into the Abbey after vespers have begun, and kneel by the north door, taking with you some dragonwort. Now evil spirits can only leave, just as they can only enter a church, on the north side, which is the devil’s side, and as soon as the church is empty the black witch will hurry to the north door and try to get out. But you must stand within a circle of dragonwort, which will protect you from her, and not allow her to pass till she has promised to remove her wicked spells from your lover, and to molest you and yours no longer. She will be the more ready to promise anything you may ask, as to-night is Walpurgis Night, and she will be in haste to join her sister witches on the summit of the Brocken.”
The lights were low in the Abbey church when Yolande came to kneel by the north door. The censer swung to and fro, and the prayers of the faithful rose heavenward with the incense. There were many holy prayers, but one evil prayer rose with the rest. Straightway a magpie swooped down from the rood-screen, and, snatching a grain of myrrh as the acolyte swung the censer to right and to left, flew back to its perch. When the service was over and the church empty, the magpie fluttered to the north door, and with a hoarse cry turned into the black witch, who stamped and raved, coaxed and cursed, but Yolande stood firm within her sheltering circle of dragonwort, till the witch at last, afraid lest she should miss the tryst on the Brocken, angrily promised to molest the young couple no more. Then Yolande stood aside, and the black witch hurried out of the church.
So Yolande and the goatherd were married, and at their wedding a snow-white gull hovered about the porch of the Abbey, waiting till the bridal procession should pass out, and when it came, the bird flew on before it to Yolande’s new home, and perched upon the roof in token of welcome. And that same night she fancied she heard the ringing of joy-bells, far out at sea.
“Do you know, Queen Mab,” said Philomène, “though I was a little bit afraid when I first heard about you, having thought of you all these years as just a pussy, I was really more frightened when I heard about the White Létiche. Sweet William told me that she would appear on All Souls’ Eve, if I liked, but after that I don’t quite know what to do. Will she speak to me?”
“No, certainly not,” replied Queen Mab, “a spirit never speaks first. You must begin.”
“THE FAIRIES HAD ALREADY BEGUN TO ASSEMBLE.”
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The Fairy Latchkey.