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Has some god possessed you, dear girl? Do your wits wander under the spell of Pan or Hecate, the august Corybantes or Cybele, the mountain mother?  Are you being worn down for some fault against Dictynna, her of the wild beasts, and are you tainted with failure to offer the holy batter? For she also haunts the Lake and passes over the dry land  that stands in the eddies of the surf.