It might have been fancied, indeed, that she expected to minister to the wants of the community unseen, like a disembodied divinity or enchantress
, holding forth her bargains to the reverential and awe-stricken purchaser in an invisible hand.
What the knitting was, I don't know, not being learned in that art; but it looked like a net; and as she worked away with those Chinese chopsticks of knitting-needles, she showed in the firelight like an ill-looking enchantress
, baulked as yet by the radiant goodness opposite, but getting ready for a cast of her net by and by.
I believe she would like to kill him if she could, for she is an enchantress
The host, dismounting, sped The parting guest whose boat rocked under him, And when the circling stirrup-cup went round, No light guitar, no lute, was heard again; But on the heart aglow with wine there fell Beneath the cold bright moon the cold adieu Of fading friends -- when suddenly beyond The cradled waters stole the lullaby Of some faint lute; then host forgot to go, Guest lingered on: all, wondering at the spell, Besought the dim enchantress
to reveal Her presence; but the music died and gave No answer, dying.
When I got through the charmed grove, and was near the great house of the enchantress
Circe, I met Mercury with his golden wand, disguised as a young man in the hey-day of his youth and beauty with the down just coming upon his face.
If there were time to spare from more important matters, I should be glad to tell you of Medea's fiery chariot, drawn by winged dragons, in which the enchantress
used often to take an airing among the clouds.
Then Mills pronounced distinctly: "Good-bye, old Enchantress
Last eve in dreams, I saw thee stand, Like queenly nymphs from Fairy-land-- Enchantress
of the flowery wand, Most beauteous Isadore!
It was, however, surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared to go into it because it belonged to an enchantress
, who had great power and was dreaded by all the world.
You see well enough," retorted Amelotte, "that she is an enchantress
Bending over a steaming vessel of tea, and looking through the steam, and breathing forth the steam, like a malignant Chinese enchantress
engaged in the performance of unholy rites, Mr F.
was under the constant necessity of referring for advice and support to a sage volume entitled The Complete British Family Housewife, which she would sit consulting, with her elbows on the table and her temples on her hands, like some perplexed enchantress
poring over the Black Art.