at least, she did not
consider herself so when she plaited her curly, reddish hair before the
looking-glass. Her mother's hair was as black as ebony and as smooth as
silk, and her yellowish complexion and the tinge of red in her cheeks
seemed twice as beautiful as her own freckles.

The growing child longed to be beautiful, although she did not exactly
know why; and it disheartened and depressed her that she did not grow
better-looking, in spite of all her fervent prayers. She used to kneel
down at her bedside every evening in the little room she shared with
Marianna and raise her hands in earnest supplication. She did not even
know herself what all the things were which she prayed for.

Marianna was also a devout Christian, and, when they both lay in their
beds, she would tell the listening child all about signs and wonders,
about spells and [Pg 40] miraculous cures, and about the strange things
that happened in the neighbourhood.

Hadn't farmer Kiebel heard the sound of a horn behind him in the wood
not far from the new Jewish cemetery when he was driving back from
Wronke to Obersitzko after the last fair! "Toot, toot, toot!" He had
got down and had drawn lots of crosses in the snow with his whip in
front of the trembling horses and all around the cart; and then the
black huntsman had rushed past him with horns blowing, dogs barking,
and making a fearful noise. His cloak had flapped so much that it had
almost blown Pan Kiebel down from his cart; but the crosses in the snow
had protected the pious man, and the black huntsman had had to ride on.

And there was a mountain at Ossowiec, where the witches had met last
June, and where they would soon meet again in December, in order to
deliberate where they should go in the shape of dust and wind. But if
you painted "C.M.B.," the initials of the three Kings of the East, on
all the doors and walls, no witch would be able to get in and throw
something into your plate. Or you need only say to yourself, "God bless
it," before you began to eat or drink, and then no witchcraft could
harm your food, for the saints would hold their hands stretched out
over the plate.

Those who regularly prayed to the Holy Mother or to the saints had no
need to fear the devil, who, four weeks ago, had come to miller Kierski
at midnight--the man who lived at Latalice, north of Gradewitz, and was
always swearing and drinking--and had almost wrung his neck off. He had
been left on the dunghill beh