After garland throwing, huge bonfires were kindled, and the surrounding mountains gleamed with many lights. It was, indeed, a fine sight to see the high, heaven-kissing flames reflected by the dark waters of the blue Adriatic.
But of all the bonfires in the neighbourhood, the Starescina's was the biggest, for he was one of the richest men of the town. It was thus no easy matter to jump scathless over it. Still, young and old did manage to do so, either when the flames—chasing one another —leapt up to the sky, or else when the fire began to burn low. The stillness of the night was interrupted by prolonged shouts of "Zivio!" repeated again and again by the echoes of the neighbouring mountains; but amidst the shouting of "Long life!" you could hear the hooting of some owl scared by this unusual glimmering light, and every now and then the shrill cry of some witch or some other ghostly wanderer of the night, and the suppressed groaning and gnashing of teeth of evil spirits, disappointed to think that so many sturdy lads and winsome lassies should escape their clutches for a whole year; for they have no power against all those who jump over these hallowed bonfires on the eve of the mystic saint's day.
"There, did you hear?" said one of the young girls, shuddering.
Thereupon we all crossed ourselves devoutly.
"It is better not to think of them, they cannot come near us," said the Starescina.
"It is not long ago that we saw three witches burnt at Zavojane. When was it, Bellacic?"
"It was in 1823, in the month of August, on the 3rd, if I remember rightly."
"Oh! then they were real witches?"
"Of course."
"Were they very ugly? Had they beards?"
"Oh, no! they were very much like all the other elderly women of the place."