"Nine peacocks' hearts, four bats' tongues,
A pinch of moondust and a hummingbird's lungs."
Then I asked a question I would never have dared ask if it hadn't been that I was still half drunk from the potion I had swallowed, "Are you a witch?"
She smiled again, and answered, "I make it my profession.
Since she hadn't struck me down with a flash of lightning, I went on. "Do you ride a broomstick?"
This time she laughed. "I can when I like."
"Is it—is it very hard?"
"Rather like a bucking bronco at first, but I've always been a good horsewoman, and now I can manage very nicely. I've finally- progressed to side-saddle, though I still feel safer astride. I always rode my horse astride. Still, the best witches ride side saddle, so . . Now run along home. Alexandra has lessons to study and I must work. Can you hold your tongue or must I make you forget?"
"I can hold my tongue."
She looked at me and her eyes burnt into me like the potion she had given me to drink. "Yes, I think you can," she said. "Come back tomorrow if you like. Thammuz will show you out.'
The leopard rose and led the way to the door. As I hesitated, unwilling to tear myself away, it came back and pulled gently but firmly on my trouser leg.
"Good-bye, boy," the witch woman said. "And you won't have any more chills and fever."
"Good-bye," I answered. I didn't say thank you. I didn't say goodbye to Alexandra. I followed the leopard out.
She let me come every day. I think she must have been lonely. After all I was the only thing there with a life apart from hers. And in the long run the only reason I have had a life of my own is because of her. I am as much a creation of the witch woman's as Thammuz the leopard was, or the two cats, Ashtaroth and Orus (it wasn't until many years after the last day I saw the witch woman that I learned that those were the names of the fallen angels).
She did cure my malaria, too. My parents and the townspeople thought that I had outgrown it. I grew angry when they talked about it so lightly and wanted to tell them that it was the witch woman, but I knew that if ever I breathed a word about her I would be eternally damned. Mamma thought we should write a testimonial letter to the 666 Malaria Medicine people, and maybe they'd send us a couple of dollars.
Alexandra and I became very good friends. She was a strange, aloof creature. She liked me to watch her while she danced alone in the ball room or played on an imaginary harp—though sometimes I fancied I could hear the music. One day she took me into the
