igh up on the left I could discern a light or two, piercing the gloom
of the sky; and I knew they shone from the wind-mills of Montmartre. In
every other direction lay darkness; desolation swept by the night wind;
silence broken only by the dismal howling of far-off watch-dogs. I might
have been ten miles from Paris: even as I was a thousand miles from the
man who had risen so happily that morning.

For very misery I sobbed aloud. I did not know exactly where I was; nor
had I known, had I the strength to return. Excitement had carried me
far, but suddenly I felt the weakness of exhaustion, and sick and aching
I craved only a hole in which to lie down and die. Fortunately at this
moment I met the wind, and caught the scent of new-mown hay: stumbling
forward a few steps with such strength as remained, I made out a low
building looming through the night. I staggered to it; I discovered that
it was a shed; and entering with my hands extended, I felt the hay under
my feet. With a sob of thankfulness I took two steps forward and sank
down; but instead of the soft couch I expected, I fell on the angular
body of a man, who with a savage curse rose and flung me off.

This at another time would have scared me to death; but I was so far
gone in wretchedness that I felt no fear and little surprise. I rolled
away without a word, and curling myself up at a distance of a few feet
from my fellow-lodger, fell in a minute fast asleep.

When I awoke, daylight, though the sun was not up, was beginning to
creep into the shed. I turned, every bone in my body ached: the weals of
the stirrup-leathers smarted and burned. I remembered yesterday's
doings, and groaned. Presently the hay beside me rustled, and over the
shoulder of the mass against which I lay I made out the face of a man,
peering curiously at me. I had not yet broken with every habit of
suspicion, nor could in a moment recollect that I had nothing but rags
to lose; and I gazed back spellbound. In silence which neither broke by
so much as a movement we waited gazing into one another's eyes; while
the light in the low-roofed hovel grew and grew, and minute by minute
brought out more clearly the other's features.

At length I knew him, and almost at the same moment he recognized me;
uttering an oath of rage, he rose up as if to spring at my throat. But
either because I did not recoil--being too deep-set in the hay to
move--or for some other reason, he only shook his claw-like finger