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She had forgotten everything that happened in the minutes before Catty had come down the passage. She filled in the footprint and stroked the earth smooth above it, lest Mamma should see it and remember. Potnia, Potnia Nux Lady, our Lady, Night, You who give sleep to men, to men labouring and suffering Out of the darkness, come, Come with your wings, come down On the house of Agamemnon.
That came of reading too much Byron. How was it that patterns of sound had power to haunt and excite you? Like the "potnia, potnia nux" that she found in the discarded Longfellow, stuck before his "Voices of the Night." Potnia, potnia nux, hypnodoteira ton polyponon broton, erebothen ithi, mole, mole katapteros ton Agamemnonion epi domon.
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