n. It had been late in the afternoon before he had altered the
posters and set out on his paradoxical mission; the sun was declining
when he returned homeward. Pausing at a cross-road, he selected a tree
for one of his remaining announcements. It was already adorned with a
dodger, citing the escape of a negro slave and offering a reward for
his apprehension; not an uncommon document in the North in those
days.

As the traveler read the bill his expression became clouded,
cheerless. Around him the fallen leaves gave forth a pleasant
fragrance; caught in the currents of the air, they danced in a circle
and then broke away, hurrying helter-skelter in all directions.

"Poor devil!" he muttered. "A fugitive--in hiding--"

And he nailed one of his own bills over the dodger. As he stood there
reflectively the lights began to twinkle in the village below like
stars winking upwards; the ascending smoke from a chimney seemed a
film of lace drawn slowly through the air; from the village forge came
a brighter glow as the sparks danced from the hammers on the anvils.

Shaking the reins on his horse's neck, the soldier continued his way,
while the sun, out of its city of clouds, sent beams like a
searchlight to the church spire; the fields, marked by the plow; the
gaunt stumps in a clearing, displaying their giant sinews. Then the
resplendent rays vanished, the battlements crumbled away and night,
with its army of shadows, invaded the earth. As Saint-Prosper
approached the tavern, set prominently on the brow of the hill, all
was solemnly restful save the sign which now creaked in doleful
doldrums and again complained wildly as the wind struck it a vigorous
blow. The windows were bright from the fireplace and lamp; above the
door the light streamed through the open transom upon the swaying
sign and the fluttering leaves of the vine that clambered around the
entrance.

In the parlor, near a deteriorated piano whose yellow keys were
cracked and broken--in almost the seventh stage of pianodum, _sans_
teeth, _sans_ wire, _sans_ everything--he saw the dark-eyed girl and
reined his horse. As he did so, she seated herself upon the hair-cloth
stool, pressed a white finger to a discolored key and smiled at the
not unexpected result--the squeak of decrepitude. While her hand still
rested on the board and her features shone strongly in relief against
the fire like a cameo profile set in bloodstone, a figure approached,
and, leaning gracefu