It was gone again in a flash with scarcely a sound of its padded feet on the stones, and then others dropped by the score down the side of the house, past his very eyes, all changing as they fell and darting away rapidly, softly, towards the gathering point.  And again he felt the dreadful desire to do likewise; to murmur the old incantation, and then drop upon hands and knees and run swiftly for the great flying leap into the air.  Oh, how the passion of it rose within him like a flood, twisting his very entrails, sending his heart’s desire flaming forth into the night for the old, old Dance of the Sorcerers at the Witches’ Sabbath!  The whirl of the stars was about him; once more he met the magic of the moon.  The power of the wind, rushing from precipice and forest, leaping from cliff to cliff across the valleys, tore him away....  He heard the cries of the dancers and their wild laughter, and with this savage girl in his embrace he danced furiously about the dim Throne where sat the Figure with the sceptre of majesty....

Then, suddenly, all became hushed and still, and the fever died down a little in his heart.  The calm moonlight flooded a courtyard empty and deserted.  They had started.  The procession was off into the sky.  And he was left behind—­alone.

Vezin tiptoed softly across the room and unlocked the door.  The murmur from the streets, growing momentarily as he advanced, met his ears.  He made his way with the utmost caution down the corridor.  At the head of the stairs he paused and listened.  Below him, the hall where they had gathered was dark and still, but through opened doors and windows on the far side of the building came the sound of a great throng moving farther and farther into the distance.

He made his way down the creaking wooden stairs, dreading yet longing to meet some straggler who should point the way, but finding no one; across the dark hall, so lately thronged with living, moving things, and out through the opened front doors into the street.  He could not believe that he was really left behind, really forgotten, that he had been purposely permitted to escape.  It perplexed him.

Nervously he peered about him, and up and down the street; then, seeing nothing, advanced slowly down the pavement.

The whole town, as he went, showed itself empty and deserted, as though a great wind had blown everything alive out of it.  The doors and windows of the houses stood open to the night; nothing stirred; moonlight and silence lay over all.  The night lay about him like a cloak.  The air, soft and cool, caressed his cheek like the touch of a great furry paw.  He gained confidence and began to walk quickly, though still keeping to the shadowed side.  Nowhere could he discover the faintest sign of the great unholy exodus he knew had just taken place.  The moon sailed high over all in a sky cloudless and serene.

Hardly realising where he was going, he crossed the open market-place and so came to the ramparts, whence he knew a pathway descended to the high road and along which he could make good his escape to one of the other little towns that lay to the northward, and so to the railway.