'Fish remora,
Brains of calf,
Hair of wolf and bones of toad,
Blood of doves and hippomanes,
Scarlet oak and bruised snake,
Screech-owl's feathers and marrow of men—
Men who have drowned at sea.
Crackle the laurels under the pot;
Thrice I stir, thrice I chant the mystic number three.
Who shall withstand the philtre Endora of Hecate brews?
Simmer, ye potion!
Brew, ye philtre!
Spirits of Hades, draw out the essence
Of fish and beasts, birds and men!
Make the broth strong so the sediment worthless may be.
Help ye the drawing of love by the lover
From Chios who drinks of this mixture of Hell!'
Turning, she saw the girl pallid with fright and shading her eyes with her hands.
'Ah, Mistress Nika, thou art terror-stricken! What if I should clear thy vision and let thee see the spirits surrounding the charmed vessel?'
Endora blew out the light, and the twain were in darkness, except for the glare of the dying embers. The girl uttered a death-like wail, and fell to the ground like a corpse. When consciousness returned, she saw the witch sitting in a cleft of the rock, with a sardonic smile on her face and a small phial in her hand. But it was not filled with the brewage; its contents were harmless. Endora knew her rôle too well to join Nika and Chios.
As the love-stricken maid grew fully awake, she cried:
'Oh, woman, thou art terrible! Is it thus thou makest the philtre? Had I known so much, my heart would have failed me. Thou art truly of Hecate, and so is Saronia. Is your creed the same?'
'No, proud daughter of Venusta. It is the same, yet not so. Saronia is blessed of Diana; I am the accursed of Hecate. Saronia commands those spirits by her goodness; I draw them by the evil within me. But those shades are the slaves of the priestess, slaves like she was a slave to thee, with this difference: she treats the most abject with compassion; thou treatedst her with——'
'Hush, woman; no more of this! Let her be.'
'Ah, let her be, indeed; thou dost not intend to. As soon as thou art hence, thou wilt do thy best to devour her, as the night-hawk a sleeping bird. But beware, girl! Thou art treading a great abyss, an unfathomable chasm. Be careful, or thou wilt regret thy undertaking! Shall I say more?'