The old dame was crouching beside the hearth in the middle room, turning the metal spit, on which she had put the ducks, over the freshly kindled fire.

The smoke hurt her eyes, which were slightly inflamed, yet they seemed to serve their purpose better than her half-dulled ear, for, after a swift glance at Ledscha, she stammered in her faltering speech:  “What has happened?  Nothing good, certainly.  It is written on your face.”

The girl nodded assent, pointed with a significant gesture to her eyes and the open air, and went down to the shore again to convince herself that no other vessel was approaching.

What she had to confide to Tabus was intended for her alone, and experience taught how far spoken words could be heard at night over the water.

When she had returned to the hut, she bent down to the old woman’s ear and, holding her curved hand to her lips, cried, “He is not coming!”

Tabus shrugged her shoulders, and the smile of satisfaction which flitted over her brown, wrinkled face showed that the news was welcome.

For her murdered grandson’s sake the girl’s confession that she had given her heart to a Greek affected her painfully; but Tabus also had something else on her mind for her beautiful darling.

Now she only intimated by a silent nod that she understood Ledscha, and her head remained constantly in motion as the latter continued:  “True, I shall see him again to-morrow, but when we part, it will hardly be in love.  At any rate—­do you hear, grandmother?—­to-morrow must decide everything.  Therefore—­do you understand me?—­you must question the cords now, to-night, for to-morrow evening what they advised might be too late.”

“Now?” repeated Tabus in surprise, letting her gaze rest inquiringly upon the girl.  Then she took the spit from the fire, exclaiming angrily:  “Directly, do you mean?  As if that could be!  As if the stars obeyed us mortals like maids or men servants!  The moon must be at the full to learn the truth from the cords.  Wait, child!  What is life but waiting?  Only have patience, girl!  True, few know how to practise this art at your age, and it is alien to many all their lives.  But the stars!  From them, the least and the greatest, man can learn to go his way patiently, year by year.  Always the same course and the same pace.  No deviation even one hair’s breadth, no swifter or slower movement for the unresting wanderers.  No sudden wrath, no ardent desire, no weariness or aversion urges or delays them.  How I love and honour them!  They willingly submit to the great law until the end of all things.  What they appoint for this hour is for it alone, not for the next one.  Everything in the vast universe is connected with them.  Whoever should delay their course a moment would make the earth reel.  Night would become day, the rivers would return to their sources.  People would walk on their heads instead of their