When the wood-dogs ceased there was no sound beyond the light fall of the horse's hoofs as he walked upon the grass.
Darkness and silence prevailed; he could see nothing.

He spoke to his horse and patted his neck; he stepped a little faster and lifted his head, which he had held low as if making his way by scent.
The gloom weighed upon him, unhappy as he was.

Often as he had voluntarily sought the loneliness of the woods, now in this state of mind, it oppressed him; he remembered that beyond the beeches the ground was open and cleared by a forest fire, and began to be anxious to reach it.

It seemed an hour, but it really was only a few minutes, when the beeches became thinner and wider apart, the foliage above ceased, and the stars shone.

Before him was the open space he had desired, sloping to the right hand, the tall grass grey-green in the moonlight, and near at hand sparkling with dew.
Amongst it stood the crooked and charred stems of furze with which it had been covered before the fire passed.