But allow me to continue. This woman, at times, can increase her stature by more than four inches. She is like an india-rubber doll, like an automaton of a new kind; she takes strange forms. How many legs and arms has she? We do not know. While her limbs are being held by incredulous spectators, we see other limbs coming into view, without knowing where they come from. Her shoes are too small to fit these witch-feet of her, and this particular circumstance gives rise to the suspicion of the intervention of mysterious power. Don't laugh when I say "_gives rise to the suspicion_." I affirm nothing; you will have time to laugh presently. When this woman is bound, a third arm is seen to appear, and nobody knows where it comes from. Then follows a long series of droll teasing tricks. She abstracts bonnets, watches, money, rings, pins, and produces them again with great adroitness and gayety; she takes coats and waistcoats, pulls off boots, brushes hats and puts them back upon the heads of those to whom they belong, curls and strokes mustaches, and occasionally hits you with a fist, for she also has fits of ill-temper. I said _a_ fist, because it is always a clumsy and callous hand that strikes the blow. It has been noticed that the hand of the sorceress is small. She has large finger-nails; has a moist skin, the temperature of which varies from the natural warmth of the body to the icy chill of a corpse the touch of which makes you shiver; she allows herself to be handled, pinched, observed; and ends by rising into the air, remaining suspended there with no visible means of support, like one of those plump wooden hands hung out over the sidewalk as a sign at the shops of the glove merchants. [Illustration: PLATE VII. PLASTER CASTS OF IMPRESSIONS IN CLAY PRODUCED BY AN UNKNOWN FORCE.] I swear to you that I emerge with a very calm spirit from the cave of this Circe. Freed from her enchantments, I pass all my impressions in review, and end in scepticism, although the testimony of my senses assures me that I have not been the sport of an error or of an illusion. All these extraordinary manoeuvres cannot be attributed to prestidigitation. We ought to be on our guard against every kind of trickery, and make a scrupulous investigation in order to forestall mendacity or fraud. But the test sometimes fails; the facts do not always meet the demands of the eager and restless spectators. This is one more mystery to explain, and proves that the individual herself who works these wonders is not their sole arbiter. Undoubtedly, she possesses the exclusive power of producing these portentous feats; but they cannot materialize except with the co-operation of an unknown agent, some _deus ex machina_.