encompass her like a fine atmosphere. And
yet he has gained nothing at all; for he has no will thereto. She is
_possessed_, _bedevilled_, and she does not belong to the Devil.
Sometimes he uses her with dreadful cruelty, and yet gains nothing
thereby. He places a coal of fire on her breast, or within her bowels.
She jumps and writhes, but still says, "No, butcher, I will stay as I
am."

"Take care! I will lash you with so cruel a scourge of vipers, I will
smite you with such a blow, that you will afterwards go weeping and
rending the air with your cries."

The next night he will not come. In the morning--it was Sunday--her
husband went up to the castle. He came back all undone. The lord had
said: "A brook that flows drop by drop cannot turn the mill. You bring
me a halfpenny at a time, which is good for nought. I must set off in
a fortnight. The king marches towards Flanders, and I have not even a
war-horse, my own being lame ever since the tourney. Get ready for
business: I am in want of a hundred pounds."

"But, my lord, where shall I find them?"

"You may sack the whole village, if you will; I am about to give you
men enough. Tell your churls, if the money is not forthcoming they are
lost men; yourself especially--you shall die. I have had enough of
you: you have the heart of a woman; you are slack and sluggish. You
shall die--you shall pay for your cowardice, your effeminacy. Stay; it
makes but very small difference whether you go down now, or whether I
keep you here. This is Sunday: right loudly would the folk yonder
laugh to see you dangling your legs from my battlements."

All this the unhappy man tells again to his wife; and preparing
hopelessly for death, commends his soul to God. She being just as
frightened, can neither lie down nor sleep. What is to be done? How
sorry she is now to have sent the spirit away! If he would but come
back! In the morning, when her husband rises, she sinks crushed upon
the bed. She has hardly done so, when she feels on her chest a heavy
weight. Gasping for breath, she is like to choke. The weight falls
lower till it presses on her stomach, and therewithal on her arms she
feels the grasp as of two steel hands.

"You wanted me, and here I am. So, at last, stubborn one, I have your
soul--at last!"

"But oh, sir, is it mine to give away? My poor husband! you used to
love him--you said so: you promised----"

"Your husband! You forget. Are you sure your thoughts were always k