“For a time we stood in silence, regarding it through the bars. I knew that Gavrilo and Mara were filled with emotion, and for my own part I was surprised to discover how much the death of the bird seemed to mean to me. When, a day or two before, they had spoken of symbolism in connection with the _kos_, I knew what they meant, but did not feel it: yet now I felt it strongly, as though I myself were a Serb, with a Serb’s vision and superstition. It was not a dead bird that I saw, but a climax in a parable—a story of scriptural flavor, fraught with uncanny meaning. “Gavrilo was the first to speak. “‘Poor _kos_!’ he said in a low, tragic tone. ‘It is free at last. It was written that it should not be captive when to-morrow dawns.’ “‘What do you mean?’ demanded Mara. “‘I told you it was destined to die unless you let it go,’ he answered gently. “‘And as I would not let it go,’ she retorted, ‘you desired that it should die, in accordance with your prophecy! Yes, that is it! You made it die! You placed the leaves of henbane in its cage and killed it!’ “‘You are excited, Maro,’ he returned. ‘You must know that I desired the poor bird to live. Let us dig a little grave here in the garden and bury it, and cease to speak of it until we are calmer. We are overwrought—both of us—because of the bitterness of to-morrow. Where is the spade?’ “‘Do not touch the _kos_!’ she commanded: ‘It shall not be buried yet.’ “‘Why not?’ I interposed. ‘It will be better for us all.’ “‘The old bird man comes this evening,’ Mara flung back. ‘He will look at the bird and know that Gavrilo has poisoned it with henbane.’ “‘But, Maro,’ I returned, ‘Gavrilo has said that he did not. You know that he is truthful.’ “‘His words mean nothing!’ she cried. ‘Am I not a Serb? Do I not read the meanings in events? Gavrilo lies. Gavrilo killed the _kos_. He is a murderer. I hate him!’ “‘Ah!’ he exclaimed. ‘You give me the truth at last!’ “‘Yes, the truth!’ “‘So much the better that I know in time!’ cried Gavrilo, and without another word he ran frantically from the garden. “As for Mara, she seemed almost on the brink of madness. I do not know how long I remained there trying to reason with her, calm her, make her see the folly and danger of what she had done. By the time her passion had abated the late June twilight had settled over the town. Presently I heard the garden gate open, and a moment later a venerable Serb appeared. “‘Wait!’ Mara said to me. ‘Now you shall learn that I was right!’ “Then, to the old man, she said: ‘You are too late to cure my bird, but you are not too late to tell me from what cause came its death. Look at this leaf that was placed in its cage. Is not that the henbane?’ “The old man took the leaf, inspected it, and shook his head. “‘No,’ said he. ‘Let me see the bird.’ “‘It lies there in the cage.’ “He opened the cage door and, reaching in, removed the little body.