It seemed to me all the silent multitude were breathing heavily as we watched that giddy dance, and whatever THEY felt, all my own senses seemed to be winding up upon that revolving figure as thread winds on a spindle.
"When will she stop ?" I whispered to my friend under my breath.
"When the earth-star rests in the roof-niche of the temple it is climbing," she answered back.
"And then ?" "On the tripod is a globe of water.

In it she will see the destiny of the year, and will tell us.

The whiter the water stays, the better for us; it never varies from white.

But we must not talk; see! she is stopping." And as I looked back, the dance was certainly ebbing now with such smoothly decreasing undulations, that every heart began to beat calmer in response.

There was a minute or two of such slow cessation, and then to say she stopped were too gross a description.