XIX

2 0 00

XIX

Terror assails her. Hastily

Tattiana would attempt to fly,

She cannot⁠—then impatiently

She strains her throat to force a cry⁠—

She cannot⁠—Eugene oped the door

And the young girl appeared before

Those hellish phantoms. Peals arise

Of frantic laughter, and all eyes

And hoofs and crooked snouts and paws,

Tails which a bushy tuft adorns,

Whiskers and bloody tongues and horns,

Sharp rows of tushes, bony claws,

Are turned upon her. All combine

In one great shout: she’s mine! she’s mine!