\"Whenwillshestop？\"Iwhisperedtomyfriendundermybreath。
\"Whentheearth—starrestsintheroof—nicheofthetempleitisclimbing，\"sheansweredback。
\"Andthen？\"
\"Onthetripodisaglobeofwater。Initshewillseethedestinyoftheyear，andwilltellus。Thewhiterthewaterstays，thebetterforus；itnevervariesfromwhite。Butwemustnottalk；see！sheisstopping。\"
AndasIlookedback，thedancewascertainlyebbingnowwithsuchsmoothlydecreasingundulations，thateveryheartbegantobeatcalmerinresponse。Therewasaminuteortwoofsuchslowcessation，andthentosayshestoppedweretoogrossadescription。Motionratherdiedawayfromher，andthepriestessgroundedassmoothlyasashipgroundsinfineweatheronasandybank。Thereshewasatlast，crouchedbehindthetripod，onecorneroftheclothcoveringitgraspedinherhand，andhereyesfixedontheshiningroundjustpoiseduponthedistantrun。