Towards the centre of the
forest these streams united to form a lake, or rather a natural moat,
surrounding an island in the midst of which stood a gigantic oak. This
was the only tree on the island; round it, at even distances, were
placed twelve stones, beyond which a meadow glittering with varied hues
extended to the surrounding water.
It was to this island that the holiday-makers were wending their way:
young men and maidens, and such elders as had vigour enough to traverse
the rough tracks leading from the interior. They were a small race,
lithe and active, with strong black hair and dark eyes now twinkling
with merriment They poured over the wooden bridges into the precincts of
the towering oak, under which the elders seated themselves with the
musicians, the younger people streaming off to the clear ground between
the stones and the water.
When all were assembled the music struck up at a signal from an elder.
The instruments were akin to the goat-skin pipes of Lower Brittany; the
music wild, weird, appealing to the passion if not melodious to the ear.
At any rate the effect was inspiriting. First, the men danced, the
maidens seating themselves round the dancers and chanting the following
words, to the rhythm of which they swayed their bodies gracefully:--
"Mille Sarrazins, mille Sarmates,
Un jour nous avons tues.
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