cination.

The old woman drew from her bosom a crystal, and placed the point
against Hypatia's breast. A cold shiver ran through her.... The witch
waved her hands mysteriously round her head, muttering from time to
time, 'Down! down, proud spirit!' and then placed the tips of her skinny
fingers on the victim's forehead. Gradually her eyelids became heavy;
again and again she tried to raise them, and dropped them again
before those fixed glaring eyes...., and in another moment she lost
consciousness....

When she awoke, she was kneeling in a distant part of the room, with
dishevelled hair and garments. What was it so cold that she was clasping
in her arms? The feet of the Apollo! The hag stood by her, chuckling to
herself and clapping her hands.

'How came I here? What have I been doing?'

'Saying such pretty things!--paying the fair youth there such
compliments, as he will not be rude enough to forget in his visit
to-night. A charming prophetic trance you have had! Ah ha! you are not
the only woman who is wiser asleep than awake! Well, you will make a
very pretty Cassandra-or a Clytia, if you have the sense.... It lies
with you, my fair lady. Are you satisfied now? Will you have any more
signs? Shall the old Jewess blast those blue eyes blind to show that she
knows more than the heathen?'

'Oh, I believe you--I believe,' cried the poor exhausted maiden. 'I will
come; and yet--'

'Ah! yes! You had better settle first how he shall appear.'

'As he wills!--let him only come! only let me know that he is a god.
Abamnon said that gods appeared in a clear, steady, unbearable light,
amid a choir of all the lesser deities, archangels, principalities, and
heroes, who derive their life from them.'

'Abamnon was an old fool, then. Do you think young Phoebus ran after
Daphne with such a mob at his heels? or that Jove, when he swam up to
Leda, headed a whole Nile-flock of ducks, and plover, and curlews? No,
he shall come alone--to you alone; and then you may choose for yourself
between Cassandra and Clytia.... Farewell. Do not forget your wafers,
or the agate either, and talk with no one between now and sunset. And
then--my pretty lady!'

And laughing to herself, the old hag glided from the room.

Hypatia sat trembling with shame and dread. She, as a disciple of the
more purely spiritualistic school of Porphyry, had always looked with
aversion, with all but contempt, on those theurgic arts which were so
much lauded and e