The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No 3, September, 1862: Devoted to Literature and National Policy.Various
General
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No 3, September, 1862: Devoted to Literature and National Policy.
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
'My companion tinkled a small bell that lay upon a little uncovered
table in the hall, (the outer door having been entirely unfastened, to
all appearance,) and a slattern girl came out from an inner room. On
recognizing my companion, who had visited the house before, she led the
way without a word to the same room she had herself just quitted. There
was nothing remarkable in this. A shabby table, and two or three still
more shabby chairs, occupied the room, and a dark wax-taper stood on the
table, while at the side opposite the single window a curtain of some
dark stuff shut in almost one entire side of the apartment. We took
seats on the rickety chairs, and waited in silence, Adolph informing me
that the etiquette (strange name for such a place) of the house did not
allow of conversation, not with the proprietors, carried on in that
apartment sacred to the divine mysteries.
'Perhaps fifteen minutes had elapsed, and I had grown fearfully tired of
waiting, when the corner of the curtain was suddenly thrown back, and
the figure of a woman stood in the space thus created. Every thing
behind her seemed to be in darkness; but some description of bright
light, which did not show through the curtain at all, and which seemed
almost dazzling enough to be Calcium or Drummond, shed its rays directly
upon her side-face, throwing every feature from brow to chin into bold
relief, and making every fold of her dark dress visible. But I scarcely
saw the dress, the face being so remarkable beyond any thing I had ever
witnessed. I had looked to see an old, wrinkled hag--it being the
general understanding that all witches and fortune-tellers must be long
past the noon of life; but instead, I saw a woman who could not have
been over thirty-five or forty, with a figure of regal magnificence, and
a face that would have been, but for one circumstance, beautiful beyond
description. Apelles never drew and Phidias never chiseled nose or brow
of more classic perfection, and I have never seen the bow of Cupid in
the mouth of any woman more ravishingly shown than in that feature of
the countenance of the sorceress.
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