“ButwiltthousweartometotellmehowImaysendmysoulfromme?” , andthroughherredhairrippledthewind.“BythehoofsofthegoatIswearit,” shemadeanswer.“Thouartthebestofthewitches,” criedtheyoungFisherman, “, foritisbutalittlething.” Andhedoffedhiscaptoher, andbenthisheadlow, , andwhenhehadpassedfromhersightsheenteredhercave, andhavingtakenamirrorfromaboxofcarvedcedarwood, shesetituponaframe, andburnedvervainonlightedcharcoalbeforeit,.“Heshouldhavebeenmine,” shemuttered, “Iamasfairassheis.”
