There was not a sound in the world except the ring of our horses' hoofs upon the road.

And yet this sinister excitement hammered, from somewhere, at me as I had never felt it before.

It was as though the lovely evening were a painted scene lowered to hide some atrocity.
"This is scarcely what you expected a conquered country to look like, is it ?" I said to Trenchard.
He looked about him, then said, hesitating: "No ...

that is ...

I don't know what I expected." A curved moon, dull gold like buried treasure, rose slowly above the hill; one white star flickered and the scents of the little gardens that lined the road grew thicker in the air as the day faded.
I was conscious of some restraint with Trenchard: "He's probably wishing," I thought, "that he'd not been so expansive last night.