Then, turning to Heliodora’s kettle she said sternly, as if in obedience to some higher power: 

“Seven gold pieces to complete the work,”—­and while the young widow drew out her purse the sorceress lighted the lamps, singing as she did so and as she dropped the coin into the boiling fluid:  “Pure, bright gold!  Sunlight buried in a mine!  Holy Seven.  Shashef, Shashef!  Holy Seven, marry and mingle—­melt together!”

When this was done she poured out of the cauldron a steaming fluid as black as ink, into a shallow saucer, called Heliodora to her side, and told her what she could see in the mirror of its surface.

It was all fair, and gave none but delightful replies to the widow’s questioning.  And all the sorceress said tended to confirm the young woman’s confidence in her magic art; she described Orion as exactly as though she saw him indeed in the surface of the ink, and said he was travelling with an older man.  And lo! he was returning already; in the bright mirror she could see Heliodora clasped in her lover’s arms; and now—­it was like a picture:  A stranger—­not the bishop of Memphis—­laid her hand in his and blessed their union before the altar in a vast and magnificent cathedral.

Katharina, who had been chilled with apprehensions and a thrill of awe, as she listened to Medea’s song, listened to every word with anxious attention; what Medea said—­how she described Orion—­that was more wonderful than anything else, beyond all she had believed possible.  And the cathedral in which the lovers were to be united was the church of St. Sophia at Constantinople, of which she had heard so much.

A tight grip seemed to clutch her heart; still, eagerly as she listened to Medea’s words, her sharp ears heard the doleful gasping and whimpering behind the hanging; and this distressed and dismayed her; her breath came short, and a deep, torturing sense of misfortune possessed her wholly.  The wailing child-spirit within, a portion of whose joys Medea said had been allotted to her—­nay, she had not robbed him, certainly not—­for who could be more wretched than she?  It was only that beautiful, languishing young creature who was so lavishly endowed by Fortune with gifts enough and to spare for others without number.  Oh! if she could but have snatched them from her one after another, from the splendid ruby she was wearing to-day, to Orion’s love!

She was pale and tremulous as she rose at the call of the sorceress, after she also had offered seven gold pieces.  She would gladly have purchased annihilating curses to destroy her happier rival.

The black liquid in the saucer began to stir, and a sharply smelling vapor rose from it; the witch blew this aside, and as soon as the murky fluid was a little cool, and the surface was smooth and mirror-like, she asked Katharina what she most desired to know.  But the answer was checked on her lips; a fearful thundering and roaring suddenly made the house shake; Medea dropped the saucer with a piercing shriek, the contents splashed up, and warm, sticky drops fell on the girl’s arms and dress.  She was quite overcome with the startling horror, and Heliodora, who could herself scarcely stand, had to support her, for she tottered and would have fallen.