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On a clear space down the middle of the temple, between the bales, like a wide nave, the Mendet was being danced by three women, one with a fan, one with fire, one with wine or water in a bottle or vessel made of leaf. These three, winding about together with curving arms, dipping or rising, meeting and glancing off, were joined by a maze of others, all older women, variously dressed. An old woman with flowers in her hair stood above them on a high bale. She was the Dewa of the village, a kind of priestess presiding over all the rites. She did not on this occasion actually go into trance, but in her silent session throughout the night she seemed to contain all that happened within herself. Offerings were meanwhile being made on a wide loggia in front of the main shrine, by pemangkoes and elders from several villages who chanted continually.

Over these also the Dewa presided. Them was always an undercurrent of movement in the darkness of the court, fires lit, groups reforming, offerings, music. At last all the old men were sitting motionless, intently waiting, with a few women
among them, on a wide bamboo bed (bale-bale) with fire-offerings between them and a large group below them, chanting,

Suddenly two men leap and shudder and rock to and fro, one convulsively springing into the air, though still keeping his place among the others on the bamboo bed. Now two women twine their arms and cry, and soon the whole platform is swaying and surging with old men and women in trance. Only the Dewa sits up right and motionless in her comer. They moan and howl and weep, and fling themselves about, talking incessantly.

One leaping to his feet beats violently against the bar above his head and has to be captured and lowered. All round the bale are shuddering forms, a heap of possessed bodies writhing and coiling. Only one man, with a splendid head-dress and long, flowing hair, sits very still, his hands crossed, bending forward, and never stirs from his meditation even when an old man sitting by him begins to howl and shiver, and dance, and finally collapses on his knees, supporting himself against him.

Loud laughter breaks from the group on the high bed; there is a continual undertone of crowing, barking, clucking , Different currents of speech seem to be moving at once, as at a new Pentecost. And all the time the Dewa watches and presides unmoving. A few minister to each other, up draperies, replacing head-cloths, removing ring.

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