glittered in the starlight that fell straight upon her face. Presently,
in the midst of the torrent of demoniacal names and magic formulas that
she sang and warbled out, a piteous and terrifying sound came from behind
the curtain as of two persons gasping, sighing, and moaning: one voice
seemed to be that of a man oppressed by great anguish; the other was the
half-suffocated wailing of a suffering child. This soon became louder,
and at length a voice said in Egyptian: "Water, a drink of water."

The woman started to her feet, exclaiming: "It is the cry of the poor and
oppressed who have been robbed to enrich those who have too much already;
the lament of those whom Fate has plundered to heap you with wealth
enough for hundreds." As she spoke these words, in Greek and with much
unction, she turned to the curtain and added solemnly, but in Egyptian:
"Give drink to the thirsty; the happy ones will spare him a drop from
their overflow. Give the white drink to the wailing child-spirit, that
he may be soothed and quenched.--Play, music, and drown the lamentations
of the spirits in sorrow."

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.