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 windowpanes 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 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. But first he paused and gazed out over the scene at his feet where the
great plain lay like a silver map of some dream country. The still
beauty of it entered his heart, increasing his sense of bewilderment
and unreality. No air stirred, the leaves of the plane trees stood
motionless, the near details were defined with the sharpness of day
against dark shadows, and in the distance the fields and woods melted
away into haze and shimmering mistiness. But the breath caught in his throat and he stood stockstill as though
transfixed when his gaze passed from the horizon and fell upon the near
prospect in the depth of the valley at his feet. The whole lower slopes
of the hill, that lay hid from the brightness of the moon, were aglow,
and through the glare he saw countless moving forms, shifting thick and
fast between the openings of the trees; while overhead, like leaves
driven by the wind, he discerned flying shapes that hovered darkly one
moment against the sky and then settled down with cries and weird
singing through the branches into the region that was aflame.