midnight
cackled the old witch-lady , still nodding her high head-dress at the minister . `` Well , well , we must needs talk thus in the daytime ! You carry it off like an old hand ! But at midnight , and in the forest , we shall have other talk together ! '' She passed on with her aged stateliness , but often turning back her head and smiling at him , like one willing to recognize a secret intimacy of connection . `` Have I then sold myself , '' thought the minister , `` to the fiend whom , if men say true , this yellow-starched and velveted old hag has chosen for her prince and master ! '' The wretched minister !