“Then the next day the young man went to the stable, and did all that the wise man had bid, and hiding near, awaited the return of the witch. Nor had he indeed long to wait, for the witch, who was evidently in a great rage at something, and bore a cruel-looking stick with an iron goad on the end, rushed to the courtyard and into the stable, but fell flat on the floor, being overcome by the holy water. And the cow, whose halter had been untied from the post, turned on her with fury, and tossed and gored her, and trampled on her till she was senseless, and then ran full speed, guided by the young man, to the Baptistery, into which she entered, and where there was a priest awaiting her. And the priest sprinkled her with holy water, and took the halter from her neck, and she was disenchanted, and became once more the beautiful Artemisia. “And this done, the young man took the halter, and hurrying back to the stable, put it about the neck of the witch, who at once became a cow without horns, or such as are called ‘the devil’s own.’ And as she, maddened with rage, rushed forth, attacking everybody, all the town was soon after her with staves, pikes, and all their dogs, and so they hunted her down through the Uffizzi and along Lung’ Arno, all roaring and screaming and barking, out into the country, for she gave them a long run and a good chase, till they came to a gate of a _podere_, over which was a Saint Antony, who, indignant that she dared pass under him, descended from his niche, and gave her a tremendous blow with his staff between the horns, or where they would have been if she had possessed them. Whereupon the earth opened and swallowed her up, amid a fearful flashing of fire, and a smell which was even worse than that of the streets of Siena in summer-time—which is often so fearful that the poorer natives commonly carry fennel (as people do perfumed vinaigrettes in other places) to sniff at, as a relief from the horrible odour. “And when all this was done, the _mago_ revealed to the maiden that her parents, who were still living, were very great and wealthy people, so that there was soon a grand reunion, a general recognition, and a happy marriage. “‘Maidens, beware lest witches catch you; Think of the Via Vacchereccia; And tourists dining in the same, Note how the street once got its name.’” THE WITCH OF THE PORTA ALLA CROCE “If any secret should sacred be, Though it guarded the life of a family, And any woman be there about, She will die but what she will find it out; And though it hurried her soul to—well— That secret she _must_ immediately tell.” —_Sage Stuffing for Young Ducks_. There are in Italy, as elsewhere, families to whom a fatality or tradition is attached. The following is a curious legend of the kind: LA FATTUCHIERA DELLA PORTA ALLA CROCE.