In the midst of all these celebrants sat Christine, but she was oddly quiet, with flaming cheeks and dull eyes, and a strange twitching could be seen in her face. As an experienced midwife, she had been present at the birth, had assumed the role of godmother during the baptism, her insolent heart devoid of fear, but when the priest sprinkled the holy water over the child, baptizing it in the name of the holy trinity, she felt as if a glowing iron had suddenly been pressed to the spot where she had received the green man’s kiss. In sudden terror she had flinched, almost dropping the child, and since that moment the pain had not relented but instead grew more acute from hour to hour. At first she sat quietly, suppressing the pain, her newly awakened soul tormented by heavy thoughts, and her hand flying more and more frequently to the burning spot where it felt as if a poisonous wasp had alighted, thrusting its fiery barb deep into her core. But there was no wasp to shoo away, and the stings grew ever more fiery and her thoughts ever more filled with terror, and Christine began to show people her cheek, asking what they saw there, and again and again she asked, but no one saw anything at all, and soon no one was inclined to waste time inspecting Christine’s cheek. Finally she did convince an old woman to look once more, just as the cock was crowing to announce the dawn, and the old woman saw an almost invisible speck on Christine’s cheek. It’s nothing, the woman said, it’ll go away on its own, and off she walked. Christine tried to comfort herself, saying it was nothing, it would soon go away; but the pain did not let up, and imperceptibly the speck grew, and soon everyone could see it and asked about the black dot on her face. No one thought much of it, but their words were like barbs driven into her heart, awakening the heavy thoughts once more, and again and again she was forced to remember that this was the very spot where the green man had kissed her, and that the same burning pain that had flashed through all her limbs at the moment of the kiss now burned and gnawed at her without respite. Sleep abandoned her, and everything she ate tasted of fire. Agitated, she went here, went there, seeking comfort and finding none, for the pain continued to sharpen, and the black dot grew larger and blacker, isolated dark streaks radiated from it, and at the edge of the spot that was closest to her mouth a bump had risen.

So Christine suffered and fled through long days and long nights, and still she hadn’t revealed the fear in her heart, nor spoken of what she had received from the green man just there; but she would have sacrificed anything in heaven or earth to rid herself of these torments. She was presumptuous by nature, and agony made her ruthless.

Once more a woman was expecting a child. This time there was much less fear, the peasants were lighthearted; as long as they took care to summon the priest in good time, they thought, they could defy the green man. But Christine was not lighthearted. The closer the day of the birth approached, the more terrible the burning in her cheek became, and the more the black spot swelled, stretching distinct legs out from its center and sprouting little hairs; shiny points and stripes appeared on its back, the bump became a head, and from it flashed glinting, venomous glances, as if from two eyes. Everyone shrieked at the sight of this venomous spider upon Christine’s face, rooted in her face, growing there, and they fled in fear and horror.