Suppose there were spirits that could be captured with a talisman, which would do all one bade them?
Czipra involuntarily shuddered: she did not know why, but her whole body trembled and shivered.
"No, not so," she said to herself. "If he does not give heart for heart,—mine must not deceive him. If he cannot love me because I deserve it, he must not love me for my spells. If he does not love, he must not despise me. Away, bird of song, I do not want thee."
Then she drew the coverlet over her head and turned to the wall. But sleep did not return again: the trembling did not pass: and the singing bird in the bushes did not hold his peace.
It had come right under the window; it sang, "Come, come."
Sometimes it seemed as if the song of the nightingale contained the words "Czipra, Czipra, Czipra!"
The warm mist of passion swept away the maiden's reason.
Her heart beat so, it almost burst her bosom, and her every limb trembled.
She was no longer mistress of her mind.
She left her bed, and therewith left that magic circle which the inspiration of the Lord forms around those who fly to Him for protection, and which guards them so well from all apparitions of the lower world.