the banks of a small reed-covered lake. After sunset, a black ram and an old millstone were taken into the cottage.
Before dawn, when the first cocks began to crow, the soothsayer led the ram forth, its horns and neck crowned with grass and herbs. He cut the throat of the ram, poured his blood over the millstone, and lit a fire, alternately murmuring and shouting. When the fire burned brightly and the coal set down, he pulled it out with his fingers and threw it upon the stove. The curdling blood quickly formed black clots, steam and smoke rose from the stone, and the soothsayer, dishevelling his hair and flowing beard and opening wide his eyes, which seemed dead with age, began to shout with a piercing yet broken voice:
"I behold in the blood-red smoke and the scarlet vapours … open graves and terrible pale death. … Men proceed in front of her. … I don't know them, they are not from our country. … They go forward and cast into the water of the rivers and wells, into the stables and barns, seeds of disease which ruins and kills … by blood only can death be defeated. … I can see it. … I behold it in the scarlet, blood-soaked vapours and smoke."
The peasants stood in gloomy silence and profound thought. The soothsayer himself was silent; there was the hissing sound of flames in the hearth, the light crackling of the burnt curdling clots of blood, the quicker breathing of the throng, and the rustle of the
