Page:Weird Tales volume 38 number 03 CAN.djvu/57

 roughly and hope to keep her! A bachelor you be for another year!"

With the next couple the boy fell on his seat in the fire amid howls of his friends and howls of his own, though he was quickly pulled out. Mina, who had now fully caught the spirit and was laughing gayly, was rejoined by Christian who led her back to the point whence the running started.

"Christian is going to jump with Mina!" shouted one. Another: "We all know they're in love!" And: "Of course they will marry within a year, so this will prove or disprove the legend!"

They started to run, but Mina with all her laughing and blushing could hardly go. As they approached the fire Christian swept Mina in his arms and holding her tightly leaped high through the blaze—only to slip as he landed. But still he held her. A circle quickly formed and danced around them. In a cacophony of voices they threw prophecies as to when they would be married and how many children they would have. All good-natured fun, just as had been for generations before them.

Later some people with strange faces infiltrated, a little older than the majority. Their clothes were tattered and soiled. But of course they were welcomed. It made no difference. These unknowns, however, were not only strange of face, but strange in manner. Their enthusiasm was wild, lacking the buoyancy of the others. Coarseness crept into their hilarity; grimness was set on their faces.

These newcomers infused a changed spirit that spread through the entire group like some potent and unwholesome drug. Vulgarity invaded their bacchanalian antics. Contortions of body and face were unnatural, vocalizings were disgusting. Entranced by its own excitement, the crowd was oblivious of the degree to which it was being carried away. In the vernacular of another age and another country, it would be said that the party was getting rough.

One of the few who sensed the condition rationally was Christian, and he slowly worked his way to the outer edge of the crowd. Mina stayed with him, though she protested—until she looked into his face by the light of the fires that were crackling high, and saw the fright in his eyes.

"Come, Mina," he said. "This is not good, and I don't understand it. The crowd is no longer merry, but crazy. It makes me want to run away."

He guided her into a shadow, and they hurried along a narrow street toward their home.

Amid steep slate roofs, where the houses were all joined together, and gables nearly rubbed noses across the narrow cobblestones, they stopped in front of Mina's house which was but a few doors from Christian's. After whispered goodnights he kissed her and she ran in. He waited until her door was closed tightly, and turned thoughtfully toward his own door.

Little did he suspect the reception awaiting for him. His mother threw her arms about his neck, and his father and brothers and sisters stood in the corners with mixed expressions.

"In the name of every saint, what is the matter?" he asked upon catching his breath. "Prom your faces I can't tell whether you're joyful or anguished!"

Finally his mother held up something small and white.

"A letter from your Uncle Henri!" she announced with sustained excitement.

A few moments later Christian was back at Mina's house.