studded here and there with pools of water; and in
front of him flowed the greenish waters of the wide river. In the
spring, a putrid odour arose from the damp sod. Then fierce gales
lifted clouds of dust that blew everywhere, even settling in the
water and in one's mouth. A little later swarms of mosquitoes
appeared, whose buzzing and stinging continued night and day.
After that, came frightful frosts which communicated a stone-like
rigidity to everything and inspired one with an insane desire for
meat. Months passed when Julian never saw a human being. He often
closed his lids and endeavored to recall his youth;--he beheld the
courtyard of a castle, with greyhounds stretched out on a terrace,
an armoury filled with valets, and under a bower of vines a youth
with blond curls, sitting between an old man wrapped in furs and a
lady with a high cap; presently the corpses rose before him, and
then he would throw himself face downward on his cot and sob:

"Oh! poor father! poor mother! poor mother!" and would drop into a
fitful slumber in which the terrible visions recurred.

One night he thought that some one was calling to him in his
sleep. He listened intently, but could hear nothing save the
roaring of the waters.

But the same voice repeated: "Julian!"

It proceeded from the opposite shore, fact which appeared
extraordinary to him, considering the breadth of the river.

The voice called a third time: "Julian!"

And the high-pitched tones sounded like the ringing of a
church-bell.

Having lighted his lantern, he stepped out of his cabin. A
frightful storm raged. The darkness was complete and was
illuminated here and there only by the white waves leaping and
tumbling.

After a moment's hesitation, he untied the rope. The water
presently grew smooth and the boat glided easily to the opposite
shore, where a man was waiting.

He was wrapped in a torn piece of linen; his face was like a chalk
mask, and his eyes were redder than glowing coals. When Julian
held up his lantern he noticed that the stranger was covered with
hideous sores; but notwithstanding this, there was in his attitude
something like the majesty of a king.

As soon as he stepped into the boat, it sank deep into the water,
borne downward by his weight; then it rose again and Julian began
to row.

With each stroke of the oars, the force of the waves raised the
bow of the boat. The water, which was blacker than ink, ran
furiously along the sides.