conceived a great respect for him; and he inspired pity in me also.  He had been the teacher of the Unseen among us, till the moment when the Unseen was thus, as it were, brought within our reach; but with the revelation he had nothing to do; and it filled him with pain and wonder.  It made him silent; he said little about his religion, but signed himself, and his lips moved.  He thought (I imagine) that he had displeased Those who are over all.

When night came the bravest of us were afraid.  I speak for myself.  It was bright moonlight where we were, and Semur lay like a blot between the earth and the sky, all dark:  even the Cathedral towers were lost in it; nothing visible but the line of the ramparts, whitened outside by the moon.  One knows what black and strange shadows are cast by the moonlight; and it seemed to all of us that we did not know what might be lurking behind every tree.  The shadows of the branches looked like terrible faces.  I sent all my people out on the patrols, though they were dropping with fatigue.  Rather that than to be mad with terror.  For myself, I took up my post as near the bank of the river as we could approach; for there was a limit beyond which we might not pass.  I made the experiment often; and it seemed to me, and to all that attempted it, that we did reach the very edge of the stream; but the next moment perceived that we were at a certain distance, say twenty metres or thereabout.  I placed myself there very often, wrapping a cloak about me to preserve me from the dew. (I may say that food had been sent us, and wine from La Clairiere and many other houses in the neighbourhood, where the women had gone for this among other reasons, that we might be nourished by them.) And I must here relate a personal incident, though I have endeavoured not to be egotistical.  While I sat watching, I distinctly saw a boat, a boat which belonged to myself, lying on the very edge of the shadow.  The prow, indeed, touched the moonlight where it was cut clean across by the darkness; and this was how I discovered that it was the Marie, a pretty pleasure-boat which had been made for my wife.  The sight of it made my heart beat; for what could it mean but that some one who was dear to me, some one in whom I took an interest, was there?  I sprang up from where I sat to make another effort to get nearer; but my feet were as lead, and would not move; and there came a singing in my ears, and my blood coursed through my veins as in a fever.  Ah! was it possible?  I, who am a man, who have resolution, who have courage, who can lead the people, I was afraid! I sat down again and wept like a child.  Perhaps it was my little Marie that was in the boat.  God, He knows if I loved thee, my little angel! but I was afraid.  O how mean is man! though we are so proud.  They came near to me who were my own, and it was borne in upon my spirit that my good father was with the child; but because they had died I was afraid.  I covered my face with my hands.  Then it seemed to me that I heard a long quiver of a sigh; a long, long breath, such as sometimes relieves a sorrow that is beyond words.  Trembling, I uncovered my eyes.  There was nothing on the edge of the moonlight; all was dark, and all was still, the white radiance making a clear line across the river, but nothing more.