Her long black locks
shone with a greenish sheen, and fell in heavy masses down to her knees.
To my great shame, I must confess that a disgusting reminiscence
flashed into my memory. I thought about the hair and the nails of
corpses growing in the graves, and tried to examine the nails of
the old woman.
Meanwhile, she stood motionless as if suddenly transformed into
an ugly idol. In one hand she held a dish with a piece of burning
camphor, in the other a handful of rice, and she never removed her
burning eyes from the crowd. The pale yellow flame of the camphor
flickered in the wind, and lit up her deathlike head, almost
touching her chin; but she paid no heed to it. Her neck, as
wrinkled as a mushroom, as thin as a stick, was surrounded by
three rows of golden medallions. Her head was adorned with a
golden snake. Her grotesque, hardly human body was covered by a
piece of saffron-yellow muslin.
The demoniac little girls raised their heads from be-neath the
leaves, and set up a prolonged animal-like howl. Their example
was followed by the old man, who lay exhausted by his frantic dance.
The witch tossed her head convulsively, and began her invocations,
rising on tiptoe, as if moved by some external force.
