The moon rode high above our heads, changing the river into a silver band, and deepening the mysterious shadows of the crowding woods on either bank.

Not a sound was heard but the regular plash of our blades; naught moved but our gliding boat, and the silent water which bore us.

Ludar, lugging steadily at his oar, spoke not a word.
Yet I knew, though I was at his back, where his eyes rested, and what was the big content in his heart.

As for me, lulled by music of our oars, and entranced by the balmy brightness of the night, I forgot my great sorrow, and with my eyes on naught but one fair face, felt a strange peace.

Nor I think was she, as she sat there, erect, in the stern, her form clear cut against the silver water behind, indifferent to the restfulness of the scene.