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 of the pure mischief; and the danger of the thing was that the mischief made it taste all the better. The mere smell of the bubbles, which effervesced at the brim, was enough to turn a man's beard into pig's bristles, or make a lion's claws grow out of his ringers, or a fox's brush behind him.

'Drink, my noble guest,' said Circe, smiling as she presented him with the goblet. 'You will find in this draught a solace for all your troubles.'

King Ulysses took the goblet with his right hand, while with his left he held the snow-white flower to his nostrils, and drew in so long a breath that his lungs were quite rilled with its pure and simple fragrance. Then, drinking off all the wine, he looked the enchantress calmly in the face.

'Wretch,' cried Circe, giving him a smart stroke with her wand, 'how dare you keep your human shape a moment longer? Take the form of the brute whom you most resemble. If a hog, go join your fellow-swine in the sty; if a lion, a wolf, a tiger, go howl with the wild beasts on the lawn; if a fox, go exercise your craft in stealing poultry. Thou hast quaffed off my wine, and canst be man no longer.'

But, such was the virtue of the snow-white flower, instead of wallowing down from his throne in swinish shape, or taking any other brutal form, Ulysses looked even more manly and king-like than before. He gave the magic goblet a toss, and sent it clashing over the marble floor, to 147