The lady went quickly to her chamber, and shut herself in.  To that little inner chamber she went where were her strange tapestries, her books, and her vials.  And there hung a little cabinet on the wall, made almost in the manner of a shrine; yet it bore no holy signs.  The lady took three candles and lighted them, and they burned with strange flames, one red, and one green, and one blue; and she set all of them before the shrine.  Then she took wax, and softened it over a brazier; with deft fingers she kneaded it, and made of it a figure.  A wolf she made, so small as to stand upon the hand, and she set the figure within the little cabinet.  Then she took her vials, and quickly compounded a drink, mixing it in a golden chalice.  And all the time she said strange words for spells and charms.
    When this was done she left the room, and gave orders that the servants should leave their work and all go into the servants' hall.  Agatha she sent to see that the gate of the castle, and the drawbridge, stood free.  Alone she entered the hall, and kneeling before Marrok, offered him the golden chalice, that he might drink.
    He took it, and pledged her.  "May thy wishes prosper," he said.
    "May thy wish come true," she answered, and she watched him keenly.
    He sipped the wine, and smiled at the lady.  "A noble taste!" he cried.
    "Dink it all!" she said.
    Then he drank the drink, glad at heart.  But as he took the chalice from his mouth, smiling and about to speak, lo! words would not come!  And a strange change came over him.  For gray hair sprang on his hands and face, and his face became a snout, and his arms and legs were as those of an animal.  The chalice fell to the ground.  Then the Lady Irma struck at him with her hand, and laughed, and cried: "Down, beast!"
    Then Marrok fell upon all fours, and behold, he was a wolf, long and lank and gray.  The lady, with delight, pointed him to a mirror.  There with horror he saw himself.  Then she cried:  "Out!"
    Amazed, he fled from the hall, down the stairs, over the drawbridge, and out into the night... (Sir Marrok, French, 1902)