— 21 — BETRAYEDNathalie stood at the door with a lantern in her hand. Dirk was returning; the witch held up the light to catch a glimpse of his face, then, whispering and crying under her breath, followed into the house.
“There is blood on your shoes and on your breast,” she whispered, when they reached the long chamber at the back.
Dirk flung himself on a chair and moaned; the snow lay still on his hair and his shoulders; he buried his face in the bend of his arm.
“Zerdusht and his master have forsaken us,” whimpered the witch. “I could work no spells tonight, and the mirror was blank.”
Dirk spoke in a muffled voice, without raising his head. “Of what use magic to me? I should have stayed in Frankfort.”
Nathalie drew his wet cloak from his shoulders. “Have I not warned you? has not t
