ion, the dance
became a very agony of passionate movement.

At this point the music slowed down again, and the mountaineers began to
join in the dance. At first slowly, one by one, they joined in, the
Vladika and the higher priests leading; then everywhere the whole vast
crowd began to dance, till the earth around us seemed to shake. The
lights quivered, flickered, blazed out again, and rose and fell as that
hundred thousand men, each holding a torch, rose and fell with the rhythm
of the dance. Quicker, quicker grew the music, faster grew the rushing
and pounding of the feet, till the whole nation seemed now in an ecstasy.

I stood near the Vladika, and in the midst of this final wildness I saw
him draw from his belt a short, thin flute; then he put it to his lips
and blew a single note--a fierce, sharp note, which pierced the volume of
sound more surely than would the thunder of a cannon-shot. On the
instant everywhere each man put his torch under his foot.

There was complete and immediate darkness, for the fires, which had by
now fallen low, had evidently been trodden out in the measure of the
dance. The music still kept in its rhythmic beat, but slower than it had
yet been. Little by little this beat was pointed and emphasized by the
clapping of hands--at first only a few, but spreading till everyone
present was beating hands to the slow music in the darkness. This lasted
a little while, during which, looking round, I noticed a faint light
beginning to steal up behind the hills. The moon was rising.

Again there came a note from the Vladika's flute--a single note, sweet
and subtle, which I can only compare with a note from a nightingale,
vastly increased in powers. It, too, won through the thunder of the
hand-claps, and on the second the sound ceased. The sudden stillness,
together with the darkness, was so impressive that we could almost hear
our hearts beating. And then came through the darkness the most
beautiful and impressive sound heard yet. That mighty concourse, without
fugleman of any sort, began, in low, fervent voice, to sing the National
Anthem. At first it was of so low tone as to convey the idea of a mighty
assembly of violinists playing with the mutes on. But it gradually rose
till the air above us seemed to throb and quiver. Each syllable--each
word--spoken in unison by the vast throng was as clearly enunciated as
though spoken by a single voice:

"Guide our feet through darkness,