'Yes, we have,' the sisters muttered shyly.
She had a low, hoarse voice—one of those women's voices that seem always charged with intense feeling—and it caused deep emotion in the heart and brain of the hearers.
'Say three Aves, three Pater Nosters, three Glorias, out loud,' commanded the witch.
Standing in front of her, the sisters said the words of prayer; she said them too, in her vibrating voice, her hands clasped in her lap on her black apron. The cat rose on its long black legs, holding down its head. Then, altogether, the three women, after bowing three times at the Gloria Patri, said the Salve Regina. The prayers were ended. The witch opened the wrought-iron casket, holding the lid so as to hide what was in it, and groped with her fingers a long time. Then, taking out some little things, still hiding them in her hands, she got mortally pale, her eyes became wild, as if she saw a terrible sight.
'Holy Virgin, help us!' Annarella uttered in a low tone, shaking with fear.
Now Chiarastella, with a yellow lighted taper, burnt two queer scented pastilles, which were pungent and heavy at the same time; she gazed intently at the flying smoke-rings; her eyes dilated, showing the whites streaked with blue, as if she was trying to read a mysterious word. When the smoke had disappeared, only a heavy smell was left; the sisters felt stupefied already, from that smell, perhaps. Monotonously, not looking at them, Chiarastella asked:
'Have you made up your mind to work a spell on your husband?'
'Yes, provided that he does not suffer in health from it,' Annarella replied feebly.
'You want to tie his hands, two or three times, so that he never at any time can stake at the lottery, do you not?'
'Yes, that is it,' the other answered eagerly.