At the foot of the slope it was lifted and borne away by certain men who were waiting, for what purpose I did not know at that time.
Scarcely was the first victim dead when the second was seized and treated in a like fashion, the multitude prostrating themselves as before.

And then last of all came my turn.

I felt myself seized and my senses swam, nor did I recover them till I found myself lying on the accursed stone, the priests dragging at my limbs and head, my breast strained upwards till the skin was stretched tight as that of a drum, while over me stood the human devil in his red mantle, the glass knife in his hand.

Never shall I forget his wicked face maddened with the lust for blood, or the glare in his eyes as he tossed back his matted locks.
But he did not strike at once, he gloated over me, pricking me with the point of the knife.

It seemed to me that I lay there for years while the paba aimed and pointed with the knife, but at last through a mist that gathered before my eyes, I saw it flash upward.