"

Then Ledscha went into the ruinous left wing of the house, where she
took from a covered hole in the floor what the old woman had kept for
the last of her race, and she performed her task gladly and with rare
skill.

Next she prepared the fish and the pan, and while her hands were moving
busily she earnestly entreated the old woman to gratify her wish and
look into the future for her.

Tabus, however, persisted in her refusal, until Ledscha again called her
"grandmother," and entreated her, by the heads of the three beloved ones
whom she expected, to fulfil her desire.

Then the old dame rose, and while the girl, panting for breath, took the
roasted ducks from the spit, the former, with her own trembling hands,
drew from the little chest which she kept concealed behind a heap of dry
reeds, branches, and straw, a shining copper dish, tossed the gold coins
which had been in it back into the box, and moistened the bottom with
the blackish-red juice of the grape from the wine jar.

After carefully making these preparations she called Ledscha and
repeated that the cords possessed the power of prophecy only on nights
when the moon was full, and that she would use another means of looking
into the future.

Then she commanded the girl to let her hands rest now and to think of
nothing except the questions whose answer she had at heart. Lastly,
she muttered into the vessel a series of incantations, which Ledscha
repeated after her, and gazed as if spellbound at the dark liquid which
covered the bottom.

The girl, panting for breath, watched every movement of the sorceress,
but some time elapsed ere the latter suddenly exclaimed, "There he is!"
and then, without removing her eyes from the bottom of the vessel, she
went on, with faltering accents, as though she was describing a scene
close before her eyes. "Two young men-both Greeks, if the dress does not
deceive--one is at your right hand, the other at your left. The former
is fair-haired; the glance of his eyes is deep and constant. It is he,
I think--But no! His image is fading, and you are turning your back upon
him. You do it intentionally. No, no, you two are not destined for each
other. You think of the one with the waving black hair and beard--of him
alone. He is growing more and more distinct--a handsome man, and how his
brow shines! Yet his glance--it sees more than that of many others, but,
like the rest of his nature, it lacks steadfastness."

Here she paus