“I shall lose six sequins,” said she, “but you will gladly pay double when I shew you what I have got; I know who you are.”

“Who am I?”

“Giacomo Casanova, the Venetian.”

It was then I drew the ten sequins from my purse.  The old woman was softened at the sight of the money, and said,

“I would not have killed you outright, certainly, but I would have made you amorous and wretched.”

“Explain what you mean.”

“Follow me.”

I went after her into a closet, and was greatly amazed at sing numerous articles about which my common sense could tell me nothing.  There were phials of all shapes and sizes, stones of different colours, metals, minerals, big nails and small nails, pincers, crucibles, misshapen images, and the like.

“Here is the bottle,” said the old woman.

“What does it contain?”

“Your blood and the countess’s, as you will see in this letter.”

I understood everything then, and now I wonder I did not burst out laughing.  But as a matter of fact my hair stood on end, as I reflected on the awful wickedness of which the Spaniard was capable.  A cold sweat burst out all over my body.

“What would you have done with this blood?”

“I should have plastered you with it.”

“What do you mean by ‘plastered’?  I don’t understand you.”

“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.