ound her in
a hundred melancholy tones. Lenore sometimes enjoyed, and sometimes
trembled at the wild charm of this solitude. Other thoughts, too, passed
through her mind: she blamed herself for having foolishly stolen out to
join an undertaking that made such a result as this possible; she
pictured to herself how they were seeking for her at home; and, above
all, wondered what he who had just left her, at her earnest request, was
thinking of her in his inmost heart. Pushing back the plaid, she
listened, but there was not a human voice to be heard; nothing but the
fall of the rain and the sighing of the wood. But near her something
moved. At first she heard it indistinctly, then plainly as in leaps it
came closer, and presently she felt something press against her plaid.
Terrified, she cautiously reached out her hand, and touched the wet skin
of a hare, who, scared from its form by the incessant rain, now sought
shelter like herself. She held her breath not to disturb her little
companion, and for a while the two cowered side by side.

Then shots sounded afar off through the rain and thunder. Lenore
started, and the hare bounded away. Yonder there were men fighting;
yonder, blood was being poured out on the dark ground. A scream was
heard--a fierce, ominous scream, then all was still. "Was he in danger?"
she asked herself; yet she felt no fear, and shook her head under her
plaid, sure that, even if he were, no danger would reach him: the gun
aimed at him would strike some broken branch, the knife drawn against
him would break like a splinter before it struck him, the man who rushed
on him would stumble and fall before he could touch that haughty head.
He was above all danger, above all fear; he knew neither care nor grief;
alas! he did not feel like other men. His head was lifted freely, his
eyes were clear and bright when all others were cast in terror down to
earth. No difficulty affrighted, no hinderance stopped him. With a mere
wave of his hand he could remove what crushed other men. Such was he.
And this man had seen her weak, precipitate, and helpless; it was her
own fault that he had now a right to assume a transient intimacy. She
trembled lest he should presume upon this right by a glance, a
presumptuous smile, a passing word. In this way her heart kept beating
and her thoughts fluttering for long hours.

The storm passed off. Instead of torrents there was small rain, and a
dull gray succeeded to the black darkn