I remember his long blond hair, parted in the middle and
falling over his shoulders; but even that remarkable trait for an infant
a few hours old did not puzzle me, for my sanity was surely being
undermined by the persistent gaze of the boy. I vaguely recall passing
my hand across my breast as if to stop the crevice through which my
personality was filtering; I was certain that my soul was about to be
stolen by that damnable child. Then the nurse dropped something, and my
thoughts came back,--they were surely on the road to hell, for they were
red and flaming when I got hold of them,--and the spell, or whatever it
was, snapped.
"I looked up and noticed the woman maliciously smiling--if it had been
in the days of the inquisition, I would have sent her to the faggots,
for she was a hell-hag. The child had fallen back in his cradle as if
the effort of holding my attention had exhausted him. Then it struck me
that there was something unholy about this affair, and I resolutely
strode to the crib and seized the baby.
"'What changeling is this?' I demanded in a loud voice, for the being
that twisted in my grip was two or two hundred years old.
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