"One word more," said Rika, catching hold of Kors's blouse; "have you no recollection of a little thing which you lost one night on a journey?" "No more enigmas for me, sweet one; let us be off. My feet itch for the dance." "Must I remind you?--look!" She drew Begga Leuven's knife from her pocket. He turned and held out his hand. At touch of the knife, the remembrance of that strange night came back to him. Again he saw the hideous old woman who pursued him with blows; he crossed heath and swamp, his sword caught in the brushwood; he ran until he was breathless.... But now he understood more than he did on that morning when he told his nightmare to his loyal friend Warner Cats, the intimate friend whom he had lost in consequence of his willful marriage.... He recognized this accursed garret, where he had lost the pretty knife, a present from his first lover. Reason returned, and with it all his pure and holy passion for Begga. She who was called _baezine_ Davie had won him by sorcery. To kiss her lips he forsook Begga, his gentle comrade; later, he was deaf to the curses of his grandfather, he was indifferent when Begga married tall Mile, and he shed no tears at the grave of the father whose death was brought about by his disgraceful marriage. And she, the abominable accomplice of the sorceress, still clung to him,--the vampire! The pale moon had risen, and now bathed the attic in silver rays tinged with blue. Rika sank to the ground beneath the unrecognizing glance of Kors; she stretched out her hands to ward off what she felt must come. In Black Kors's contracted, bloodless hand, the open knife shone as on the night of the charm. Between two harsh and vibrating strains of music which came from the Golden Swan, a discordant burst of laughter echoed across the silent tragic plain surrounding Verhulst Farm. At that moment, Kors in a fit of delirium plunged the knife into Rika's breast.... She fell without uttering a cry. Did not the incantation run:--"I command thee, charmed plant, to bring me the man who will wound me as I wound thee"? EDWARD EGGLESTON (1837-) [Illustration: EDWARD EGGLESTON]