“No, no! Touch her not! She is sacred! Remain by her side, watch over her, protect her. I’ll call for help. I’ll tell the others.”
She fled with all the strength of her legs into the deep shadow of the black trees.
Alone and trembling, Mikyllos wandered round the corpse of the young woman. He touched the pierced breast with his finger. Then, either scared by death, or more likely fearing to be taken for an accomplice of the murder, he suddenly took to his heels, resolved to apprise no one.
The icy nakedness of Touni remained as before, abandoned in the bright light of the moon.
A long time afterwards, the woods near where she lay became filled with murmurs which were frightful because almost imperceptible.
On all sides, between tree-trunks and bushes, a thousand courtesans, huddled together like frightened sheep, advanced slowly, their masses quivering with a unanimous shudder.
By a movement as regular as that of the sea striking the sandy foreshore, the front rank of this army made way for those following behind. It seemed as if nobody wanted to be the first to find the dead woman.
A great cry, taken up by a thousand mouths and dying away at a distance, arose to salute the poor corpse when it was perceived stretched out at the foot of a tree.
A thousand naked arms were first uplifted and then as many others.