Swiftly reviewing a dozen ways of immediate escape, all equally
impossible, he finally decided that the only thing to do for the moment
was to sit quiet and wait. He must see what was going to happen. At
least in the privacy of his own bedroom he would be fairly safe. The
door was locked. He crossed over and softly opened the window which
gave upon the courtyard and also permitted a partial view of the hall
through the glass doors. As he did so the hum and murmur of a great activity reached his ears
from the streets beyond--the sound of footsteps and voices muffled by
distance. He leaned out cautiously and listened. The moonlight was
clear and strong now, but his own window was in shadow, the silver
disc being still behind the house. It came to him irresistibly that
the inhabitants of the town, who a little while before had all been
invisible behind closed doors, were now issuing forth, busy upon some
secret and unholy errand. He listened intently. At first everything about him was silent, but soon he became aware of
movements going on in the house itself. Rustlings and cheepings came
to him across that still, moonlit yard. A concourse of living beings
sent the hum of their activity into the night. Things were on the move
everywhere. A biting, pungent odour rose through the air, coming he
knew not whence. Presently his eyes became glued to the windows of
the opposite wall where the moonshine fell in a soft blaze. The roof
overhead, and behind him, was reflected clearly in the panes of glass,
and he saw the outlines of dark bodies moving with long footsteps over
the tiles and along the coping. They passed swiftly and silently,
shaped like immense cats, in an endless procession across the pictured
glass, and then appeared to leap down to a lower level where he lost
sight of them. He just caught the soft thudding of their leaps. Sometimes their shadows fell upon the white wall opposite, and then
he could not make out whether they were the shadows of human beings
or of cats. They seemed to change swiftly from one to the other. The
transformation looked horribly real, for they leaped like human beings,
yet changed swiftly in the air immediately afterwards, and dropped like
animals. The yard, too, beneath him, was now alive with the creeping movements
of dark forms all stealthily drawing towards the porch with the glass
doors. They kept so closely to the wall that he could not determine
their actual shape, but when he saw that they passed on to the great
congregation that was gathering in the hall, he understood that these
were the creatures whose leaping shadows he had first seen reflected in
the window-panes opposite. They were coming from all parts of the town,
reaching the appointed meeting-place across the roofs and tiles, and
springing from level to level till they came to the yard. Then a new sound caught his ear, and he saw that the windows all about
him were being softly opened, and that to each window came a face. A
moment later figures began dropping hurriedly down into the yard. And
these figures, as they lowered themselves down from the windows, were
human, he saw; but once safely in the yard they fell upon all fours and
changed in the swiftest possible second into--cats--huge, silent cats. They ran in streams to join the main body in the hall beyond. So, after all, the rooms in the house had not been empty and unoccupied. Moreover, what he saw no longer filled him with amazement. For he
remembered it all. It was familiar. It had all happened before just
so, hundreds of times, and he himself had taken part in it and known
the wild madness of it all. The outline of the old building changed,
the yard grew larger, and he seemed to be staring down upon it from
a much greater height through smoky vapours. And, as he looked, half
remembering, the old pains of long ago, fierce and sweet, furiously
assailed him, and the blood stirred horribly as he heard the Call of
the Dance again in his heart and tasted the ancient magic of Ilsé
whirling by his side. Suddenly he started back. A great lithe cat had leaped softly up from
the shadows below on to the sill close to his face, and was staring
fixedly at him with the eyes of a human. “Come,” it seemed to say,
“come with us to the Dance! Change as of old! Transform yourself
swiftly and come!” Only too well he understood the creature’s soundless
call. 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 sate 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.