A dark stream crept from the quiet figures toward the spring.

It dyed the moss and the green violet leaves.

Slowly it wound its way to the clear water, dripping between the pale blue flowers.

The little fall below the spring was no longer snowy white; blood had tinged it red.
A dog came bounding into the glade.

He leaped the brook, hesitated on the bank, and lowered his nose to sniff at the water.