The fair widow and her companion crossed the sorceress’ threshold in some trepidation, and Katharina was the more agitated of the two; for this afternoon she had seen Philippus leave the house of Rufinus, and not long after some Arab officials had called there.  Paula had come into the garden shortly before sundown, her eyes red with weeping; and when, soon after, Pulcheria and her mother had joined her there, Paula had thrown herself on Joanna’s neck, sobbing so bitterly that the mother and daughter—­“whose tears were near her eyes”—­had both followed her example.  Something serious had occurred; but when she had gone to the house to pick up further information, old Betta, who was particularly snappish with her, had refused her admission quite rudely.

Then, on their way hither, she and Heliodora had had a painful adventure; the chariot, lent by Neforis to convey them as far as the edge of the necropolis, was stopped on the way by a troop of Arab horse, and they were subjected to a catechism by the leader.

So they entered the house of “Medea of the curls,” as the common people called the witch, with uneasy and throbbing hearts; they were received, however, with such servile politeness that they soon recovered themselves, and even the timid Heliodora began to breathe freely again.  The sorceress knew this time who Katharina was, and paid more respectful attention to the daughter of the wealthy widow.

The young crescent moon had risen, a circumstance which Medea declared enabled her to see more clearly into the future than she could do at the time of the Luna-negers as she called the moonless night.  Her inward vision had been held in typhornian darkness at the time of their first visit, by the influence of some hostile power.  She had felt this as soon as they had quitted her, but to-day she saw clearer.  Her mind’s eye was as clear as a silver mirror, she had purified it by three days’ fasting and not a mote could escape her sight.—­“Help, ye children of Horapollo!  Help, Hapi and Ye three holy ones!”

“Oh, my beauties, my beauties!” she went on enthusiastically.  “Hundreds of great dames have proved my art, but such splendid fortunes I never before saw crowding round any two heads as round yours.  Do you hear how the cauldrons of fortune are seething?  The very lids lift!  Amazing, amazing.”

She stretched out her hand towards the vessels as though conjuring them and said solemnly:  “Abundance of happiness; brimming over, brimming over!  Bursting storehouses!  Zefa-oo Metramao.  Return, return, to the right levels, the right heights, the right depth, the right measure!  Your Elle Mei-Measurer, Leveller, require them, Techuti, require them, double Ibis!”

She made them both sit down on elegant seats in front of the boiling pots, tied the “thread of Anubis” round the ring-finger of each, asked in a low whisper between muttered words of incantation for a hair of each, and after placing the hairs both in one cauldron she cried out with wild vehemence, as though the weal or woe of her two visitors were involved in the smallest omission: