"I am sorry to bother you," he cried, racing to his bedroom and firmly shutting the door.
When he awoke the next morning, he noticed that the bottom of his bedroom door was arched up in the center, leaving just enough space for a snake to slither through. He bolted out of bed trembling. When he went downstairs, he was shocked to see that every door in the house had a snake-sized arch beneath it.
His aunt was sitting at the table, eating. "Your uncle left for the day," she said, licking her lips with her forked tongue. The young man was too terrified to speak, but his silence only made matters worse.
"I do not like the way you treat me," she said and grabbed his arm. Then she pressed her fingernails so deeply into his skin that he felt as if he were being bitten. He rushed outdoors and saw his arm was swelling. His hand and fingers were beginning to throb.
He knew he must seek help, so he ran into the forest to find the wise old hermit who lived there. The old man examined him carefully and handed him some leaves. "These are best for snakebite," he said "Bind them around your arm and keep them wet."
"But I was not bitten by a snake," said the young man. "Those marks were made by my aunts fingernails."
The old hermit shook his head in despair. "The touch of a snake-woman is even worse," he said, "but try these leaves. They should help"
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