She cares for one only, and woe to those who come between him and her!" "I have seen other women in love," said Nemu, "but--" "But," exclaimed the old witch with such a sharp laugh that the girls all looked up, "they behaved differently to Nefert--I believe you, for there is not one in a thousand that loves as she does.

It is a sickness that gives raging pain--like a poisoned arrow in an open wound, and devours all that is near it like a fire-brand, and is harder to cure than the disease which is killing that coughing wench.

To be possessed by that demon of anguish is to suffer the torture of the damned--or else," and her voice sank to softness, "to be more blest than the Gods, happy as they are.

I know--I know it all; for I was once one of the possessed, one of a thousand, and even now--" "Well ?" asked the dwarf.
"Folly!" muttered the witch, stretching herself as if awaking from sleep.

"Madness! He--is long since dead, and if he were not it would be all the same to me.