the middle of which, upon a few large stones, a curious group were
exhibiting themselves.

There stood a tall, thin man enveloped in a sort of black robe; his
long gray hair fell in wild locks around his pallid and fanatical
countenance. In his right hand he held a Bible, which he waved aloft
to the people, while his large, deeply-set, hollow eyes were raised to
heaven, and his pale lips murmured light and unintelligible words. By
his side stood a woman, also in black, with dishevelled hair floating
down her back. Her face was colorless, she looked like a corpse, and her
thin, blue lips were pressed together as if in death. There was life in
her eyes--a gloomy, wild, fanatical fire flashed from them. Her glance
was glaring and uncertain, like a will-o'-the-wisp, and filled those
upon whom it fell with a shivering, mysterious feeling of dread.

And now, as if by accident, she looked to the windows where the three
gentlemen were standing. The shadow of a smile passed over her face, and
she bowed her head almost imperceptibly. No one regarded this; no one
saw that Giurgenow answered this greeting, and smiled back significantly
upon this enigmatical woman.

"Do you know what this means, gentlemen?" said Belleville.

"It means," said Giurgenow, "that the people will learn from their great
prophet something of the continuance, or rather of the conclusion of
this war. These good, simple people, as it seems to me, long for rest,
and wish to know when they may hope to attain it. That man knows, for he
is a great prophet, and all his prophecies are fulfilled."

"But you forget to make mention of the woman?" said Ranuzi, with a
peculiar smile.

"The woman is, I think, a fortune-teller with cards, and the Princess
Amelia holds her in great respect; but let us listen to what the prophet
says."

They were silent, and listened anxiously. And now the voice of the
prophet raised itself high above the silent crowd. Pealing and sounding
through the air, it fell in trumpet-tones upon the ear, and not one word
escaped the eager and attentive people.

"Brothers," cried the prophet, "why do you interrupt me? Why do you
disturb me, in my quiet, peaceful path--me and this innocent woman, who
stood by my side last night, to read the dark stars, and whose soul is
sad, even as my own, at what we have seen."

"What did you see?" cried a voice from the crowd.

"Pale, ghostly shadows, who, in bloody garments, wandered here and
there, wee