“I will shew you.”

As I trembled with fear the old woman opened a casket, a cubit long, containing a waxen statue of a man lying on his back.  My name was written on it, and though it was badly moulded, my features were recognizable.  The image bore my cross of the Order of the Golden Spur, and the generative organs were made of an enormous size.  At this I burst into a fit of hysterical laughter, and had to sit down in an arm-chair till it was over.

As soon as I had got back my breath the sorceress said,

“You laugh, do you?  Woe to you if I had bathed you in the bath of blood mingled according to my art, and more woe still if, after I had bathed you, I had thrown your image on a burning coal:” 

“Is this all?”

“Yes.”

“All the apparatus is to become mine for twelve sequins; here they are.  And now, quick! light me a fire that I may melt this monster, and as for the blood I think I will throw it out of the window.”

This was no sooner said than done.

The old woman had been afraid that I should take the bottle and the image home with me, and use them to her ruin; and she was delighted to see me melt the image.  She told me that I was an angel of goodness, and begged me not to tell anyone of what had passed between us.  I swore I would keep my own counsel, even with the countess.

I was astonished when she calmly offered to make the countess madly in love with me for another twelve sequins, but I politely refused and advised her to abandon her fearful trade if she did not want to be burnt alive.

I found Clairmont at his post, and I sent him home.  In spite of all I had gone through, I was not sorry to have acquired the information, and to have followed the advice of the good Capuchin who really believed me to be in deadly peril.  He had doubtless heard of it in the confessional from the woman who had carried the blood to the witch.  Auricular confession often works miracles of this kind.

I was determined never to let the countess suspect that I had discovered her criminal project, and I resolved to behave towards her so as to appease her anger, and to make her forget the cruel insult to which I had subjected her.  It was lucky for me that she believed in sorcery; otherwise she would have had me assassinated.

As soon as I got in, I chose the better of the two cloaks I had, and presented her with it.  She accepted the gift with exquisite grace, and asked me why I gave it her.

“I dreamt,” said I, “that you were so angry with me that you were going to have me assassinated.”

She blushed, and answered that she had not gone mad.  I left her absorbed in a sombre reverie.  Nevertheless, whether she forgot and forgave, or whether she could hit upon no other way of taking vengeance, she was perfectly agreeable to me during the rest of my stay in Milan.

The count came back from his estate, and said that we must really go and see the place at the beginning of Lent.  I promised I would come, but the countess said she could not be of the party.  I pretended to be mortified, but in reality her determination was an extremely pleasant one to me.