e only six; the colonel,
the four Hindus and myself, because Mr. Y---- and Miss X---- could
not resist the fatigue of the day and had gone to sleep directly after
supper.

Snugly sheltered by the high "grass," we had not the heart to spend this
magnificent night in prosaic sleeping. Besides, we were waiting for the
"concert" which the Takur had promised us.

"Be patient," said he, "the musicians will not appear before the moon
rises."

The fickle goddess was late; she kept us waiting till after ten o'clock.
Just before her arrival, when the horizon began to grow perceptibly
brighter, and the opposite shore to assume a milky, silvery tint, a
sudden wind rose. The waves, that had gone quietly to sleep at the feet
of gigantic reeds, awoke and tossed uneasily, till the reeds swayed
their feathery heads and murmured to each other as if taking counsel
together about some thing that was going to happen.... Suddenly, in the
general stillness and silence, we heard again the same musical notes,
which we had passed unheeded, when we first reached the island, as if
a whole orchestra were trying their musical instruments before playing
some great composition. All round us, and over our heads, vibrated
strings of violins, and thrilled the separate notes of a flute. In a
few moments came another gust of wind tearing through the reeds, and the
whole island resounded with the strains of hundreds of Aeolian harps.
And suddenly there began a wild unceasing symphony. It swelled in the
surrounding woods, filling the air with an indescribable melody. Sad and
solemn were its prolonged strains; they resounded like the arpeggios of
some funeral march, then, changing into a trembling thrill, they shook
the air like the song of a nightingale, and died away in a long sigh.
They did not quite cease, but grew louder again, ringing like hundreds
of silver bells, changing from the heartrending howl of a wolf, deprived
of her young, to the precipitate rhythm of a gay tarantella, forgetful
of every earthly sorrow; from the articulate song of a human voice, to
the vague majestic accords of a violoncello, from merry child's laughter
to angry sobbing. And all this was repeated in every direction by
mocking echo, as if hundreds of fabulous forest maidens, disturbed in
their green abodes, answered the appeal of the wild musical Saturnalia.

The colonel and I glanced at each other in our great astonishment.

"How delightful! What witchcraft is this?" we