some
such suggestion within him, looking over the gloomy flat where the
slender trees marked out the way, again that flight of Death came
rushing up, again went on, impetuous and resistless, again was nothing
but a horror in his mind, dark as the scene and undefined as its
remotest verge.

There was no wind; there was no passing shadow on the deep shade of the
night; there was no noise. The city lay behind hIm, lighted here and
there, and starry worlds were hidden by the masonry of spire and
roof that hardly made out any shapes against the sky. Dark and lonely
distance lay around him everywhere, and the clocks were faintly striking
two.

He went forward for what appeared a long time, and a long way; often
stopping to listen. At last the ringing of horses' bells greeted his
anxious ears. Now softer, and now louder, now inaudible, now ringing
very slowly over bad ground, now brisk and merry, it came on; until with
a loud shouting and lashing, a shadowy postillion muffled to the eyes,
checked his four struggling horses at his side.

'Who goes there! Monsieur?'

'Yes.'

'Monsieur has walked a long way in the dark midnight.'

'No matter. Everyone to his task. Were there any other horses ordered at
the Post-house?'

'A thousand devils!--and pardons! other horses? at this hour? No.'

'Listen, my friend. I am much hurried. Let us see how fast we can
travel! The faster, the more money there will be to drink. Off we go
then! Quick!'

'Halloa! whoop! Halloa! Hi!' Away, at a gallop, over the black
landscape, scattering the dust and dirt like spray!

The clatter and commotion echoed to the hurry and discordance of the
fugitive's ideas. Nothing clear without, and nothing clear within.
Objects flitting past, merging into one another, dimly descried,
confusedly lost sight of, gone! Beyond the changing scraps of fence and
cottage immediately upon the road, a lowering waste. Beyond the shifting
images that rose up in his mind and vanished as they showed themselves,
a black expanse of dread and rage and baffled villainy. Occasionally, a
sigh of mountain air came from the distant Jura, fading along the
plain. Sometimes that rush which was so furious and horrible, again
came sweeping through his fancy, passed away, and left a chill upon his
blood.

The lamps, gleaming on the medley of horses' heads, jumbled with
the shadowy driver, and the fluttering of his cloak, made a thousand
indistinct shapes, answering to his thoughts.