s steadfastly on
the red embers as he stirred them with his foot, he muttered some few
and broken words, among which, although I listened attentively, I could
but hear, 'Pas un mot; silence, silence, a la mort!'

'You were not wrong in your prophecy, shepherd; the storm is setting in
already,' said I, wishing to attract his attention.

'Hush!' said he, in a low whisper, while he motioned me with his hand to
be still--'hush! not a word!'

The eager glare of madness was in his eye as he spoke, and a tremulous
movement of his pale cheek betokened some great inward convulsion. He
threw his eyes slowly around the miserable room, looking below and above
with the scrutinising glance of one resolved to let nothing escape his
observation; and then kneeling down on one knee beside the blaze he took
a piece of dry wood, and stole it quietly among the embers.

'There, there!' cried he, springing to his legs, while he seized me
rudely by the shoulder, and hurried me to the distant end of the room.
'Come quickly! stand back, stand back there! see, see!' said he, as
the crackling sparks flew up and the tongued flame rose in the chimney,
'there it goes!' Then putting his lips to my ear he muttered, 'Not a
word! silence! silence to the death!'

As he said this, he drew himself up to his full height, and crossing
his arms upon his breast stood firm and erect before me, and certainly,
covered with rags the meanest poverty would have rejected, shrunk by
famine and chilled by hunger and storm, there was still remaining in
him the traits of a once noble face and figure. The fire of madness,
unquenched by every misery, lit up his dark eye, and even on his
compressed lip there was a curl of pride. Poor fellow! some pleasant
memory seemed to flit across him; he smiled, and as he moved his hair
from his forehead he bowed his head slightly, and murmured, 'Oui, sire!'
How soft, how musical that voice was then! Just at this instant the deep
bleating of the sheep was heard without, and Tete-noir, springing up,
rushed to the door, and scratched fiercely with his fore-paws. The
shepherd hastened to open it, and to my surprise I beheld a boy about
twelve years of age, poorly clad and dripping with wet, who was carrying
a small canvas bag on his back.

'Has the lamb been found, Lazare?' said the child, as he unslung his
little sack.

'Yes; 'tis safe in the fold.'

'And the spotted ewe? You don't think the wolves could have taken her
away so ea