nearly I--but let me not anticipate.
Elatreus was the head, and eldest surviving member of a family which had
a singular history. I never could make out what the story was, but, in
consequence of some ancient crime, the chief of the family was never
allowed to enter the town hall. The penalty, if he infringed the law,
was terrible. Now it chanced one day that I was wandering down the
street, my hands full of rare flowers which I had gathered for Doto, and
with four young doves in my hat. It was spring, and at that season the
young persons of the island expected to receive such gifts from their
admirers. I was also followed by eleven little fawns, which I had tamed
for her, and four young whelps of the bear. At the same time, in the
lightness of my foolish heart, I was singing a native song, all about one
Lityerses, to the tune of "Barbara Allen."

At this moment, I observed, coming out of a side street, old Elatreus. He
was doddering along, his hands behind his back, and his nose in the air,
followed by a small but increasing crowd of the natives, who crept
stealthily behind at a considerable distance. I paused to watch what was
happening.

Elatreus entered the main street, and lounged along till he came opposite
the town hall, on which some repairs were being made. The door stood
wide open. He gazed at it, in a vacant but interested way, and went up
the steps, where he stood staring in an absent-minded, vacant kind of
fashion. I could see that the crowd watching him from the corner of the
side street was vastly excited.

Elatreus now passed his hand across his brow, seemed vastly puzzled, and
yawned. Then he slowly entered the town hall. With a wild yell of
savage triumph the mob rushed in after him, and in a few moments came
forth again, with Elatreus bound and manacled. Some one sped away, and
brought the old priest, who carried the sickle. He appeared full of joy,
and lustily intoned--for they have this Popish custom of intoning--an
unintelligible hymn. By this time Elatreus had been wreathed and crowned
with flowers, and the rude multitude for this purpose seized the
interesting orchids which I had gathered for my Doto. They then dragged
the old man, pitifully lamenting, to the largest altar in the centre of
the square.

Need I say what followed? The scene was too awful. With a horrible
expression of joy the priest laid the poor wretch on the great stone
altar, and with his keen sickle--but