‘Thus the sorceress was hardly entered on her power ere she brought about the death of her rival’s child, and killed many others, but an end was presently put to these ill-doings. Her brother, whom she had bewitched out of jealousy, wasted away, and the parents were in despair, as none of the physicians whom they consulted could understand the case. One morning the child told them he had suffered much during the night from a cat, which leaped upon his bed, howled, and played the most frightful antics. They then began to suspect witchcraft, and resolved that the household should watch during the next night. On the stroke of twelve a cat was seen coming out of their daughter’s room. One of the servants gave chase, and another went into the room, fearing that the young lady had also been bewitched, and saw her lying on the bed as cold as marble. The cry arose that she was killed. The parents, mad with grief, made after the cat to destroy it, but with leaps and bounds, it kept them busy all night as if they had been huntsmen chasing a hare, and all in vain. As the bells began to sound for matins the cat ran into the young lady’s room, and the mother, beating her brow, exclaimed: “she who has bewitched my son is none other than his sister.” Rushing into the room they found her, no longer like a dead body, but all panting from the night-long chase. Her mother searched all the corners, and finding the book and earthen pot, bade throw them into the Arno. They then besought their daughter to undo the mischief she had wrought upon her brother, and so many more, and to promise she would never do the like again; but to nothing of this would she consent. Then they threw her out of window in fear and to the breaking of her bones. The servants came and took her up; laying her on her bed again; telling her to heal her brother. Not even in the last moments of life, however, would she repent. She could not die till Mengot had read for her a spell of loosing, and on him therefore she still lay crying. The servants told this to her parents, who bade put horses to the carriage and fetch the wizard, who was presently with them. First he commanded her to cure her brother, and then he read for her in his Magic Book that she might be loosed, and so she died. But when the skin and earthen pot were cast away, they sank straight underground. Thus the witch, who still came back every night to get the skin, and take the form of a cat, found all her magic art in vain; for Michael Scotti had taken her power away.’