The spurs tinkled, the torches danced, and the cavalcade slowly reentered the gloom.

In another moment it had disappeared.
The wood sank again into repose, this time disturbed by neither shape nor sound.

What lower forms of life might have crept close to its roots were hidden in the ferns, or passed with deadened tread over the bark-strewn floor.

Towards morning a coolness like dew fell from above, with here and there a dropping twig or nut, or the crepitant awakening and stretching-out of cramped and weary branches.

Later a dull, lurid dawn, not unlike the last evening's sunset, filled the aisles.