The fog had cleared. The rising moon cast his shadow on the turf. He stood on the edge of an enormous meadow with a large barn at the farther end of it. The barn doors were open, figures were passing and repassing, dark against its candlelit interior. ‘Where they’ll feast,’ he thought. He had no time to think further, for suddenly they all turned and came swooping down on him, crying, ‘Antecessor!’ As they neared him, the enthusiasm died from their voices. They stopped short, shaking their heads, and backed away. A moment later they swept off like a flock of starlings, and began a wild follow-my-leader dance over the meadow. Somehow he had joined them, his shadow prancing with theirs, and when they shouted again, ‘Antecessor, Antecessor!’ he shouted with them and joined in the rush toward what he saw as a tall man standing on a hillock, and then saw as a hoary standing stone. It was certainly a stone; for when he kissed it, as they did, it was rough and cold to his lips. But to them it must have seemed a man, for they kissed it devoutly and spoke to it, and danced round it in a worshipping circle; and women who had children with them lifted the children high in the air as children are lifted above the level of a crowd to see a procession go by. A tooting horn sounded from the barn. They crowded in and sat down at a long table, eating and drinking and all talking at once. He did not understand their language, but he laughed with them and made pleased noises. By now, the children were yawning. The sight made him yawn in sympathy, and he was glad when he was shown into a room with a curtained bed in it. In the bed was a naked girl. She was clean and plump and willing, and he thought, ‘Now I am going to possess a mortal.’ He had done so—very little artistry was needed—and she was contentedly grunting herself to sleep, when the bed curtains were parted and a tall grey-eyed woman looked down on them. There was no stir of expression on her face. He watched her draw the curtains together again, and fell asleep.