BOOK THE THIRD
9. Chapter IX
(continued)
The sound, terrible and deathlike as it was--suiting well the countenance of
the speaker, and seeming rather the voice of some bodiless wanderer of the
Styx than living mortal, would have made Ione shrink back into the pitiless
fury of the storm, but Glaucus, though not without some misgiving, drew her
into the cavern.
'We are storm-beaten wanderers from the neighboring city,' said he, 'and
decoyed hither by yon light; we crave shelter and the comfort of your
hearth.'
As he spoke, the fox rose from the ground, and advanced towards the
strangers, showing, from end to end, its white teeth, and deepening in its
menacing growl.
'Down, slave!' said the witch; and at the sound of her voice the beast
dropped at once, covering its face with its brush, and keeping only its
quick, vigilant eye fixed upon the invaders of its repose. 'Come to the fire
if ye will!' said she, turning to Glaucus and his companions. 'I never
welcome living thing--save the owl, the fox, the toad, and the viper--so I
cannot welcome ye; but come to the fire without welcome--why stand upon
form?'
The language in which the hag addressed them was a strange and barbarous
Latin, interlarded with many words of some more rude, and ancient dialect.
She did not stir from her seat, but gazed stonily upon them as Glaucus now
released Ione of her outer wrapping garments, and making her place herself
on a log of wood, which was the only other seat he perceived at hand--fanned
with his breath the embers into a more glowing flame. The slave, encouraged
by the boldness of her superiors, divested herself also of her long palla,
and crept timorously to the opposite corner of the hearth.
'We disturb you, I fear,' said the silver voice of Ione, in conciliation.
The witch did not reply--she seemed like one who has awakened for a moment
from the dead, and has then relapsed once more into the eternal slumber.
'Tell me,' said she, suddenly, and after a long pause, 'are ye brother and
sister?'
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