“We sat down to dinner again, but every one was excited; we felt that all was not over, that something was going to happen, that the bell would soon ring again.

“It rang just as the Twelfth Night cake was being cut.  All the men jumped up together.  My Uncle, Francois, who had been drinking champagne, swore so furiously that he would murder it, whatever it might be, that my mother and my aunt threw themselves on him to prevent his going.  My father, although very calm and a little helpless (he limped ever since he had broken his leg when thrown by a horse), declared, in turn, that he wished to find out what was the matter and that he was going.  My brothers, aged eighteen and twenty, ran to get their guns; and as no one was paying any attention to me I snatched up a little rifle that was used in the garden and got ready to accompany the expedition.

“It started out immediately.  My father and uncle were walking ahead with Baptiste, who was carrying a lantern.  My brothers, Jacques and Paul, followed, and I trailed on behind in spite of the prayers of my mother, who stood in front of the house with her sister and my cousins.

“It had been snowing again for the last hour, and the trees were weighted down.  The pines were bending under this heavy, white garment, and looked like white pyramids or enormous sugar cones, and through the gray curtains of small hurrying flakes could be seen the lighter bushes which stood out pale in the shadow.  The snow was falling so thick that we could hardly see ten feet ahead of us.  But the lantern threw a bright light around us.  When we began to go down the winding stairway in the wall I really grew frightened.  I felt as though some one were walking behind me, were going to grab me by the shoulders and carry me away, and I felt a strong desire to return; but, as I would have had to cross the garden all alone, I did not dare.  I heard some one opening the door leading to the plain; my uncle began to swear again, exclaiming:  ’By—–!  He has gone again!  If I can catch sight of even his shadow, I’ll take care not to miss him, the swine!’

“It was a discouraging thing to see this great expanse of plain, or, rather, to feel it before us, for we could not see it; we could only see a thick, endless veil of snow, above, below, opposite us, to the right, to the left, everywhere.  My uncle continued: 

“’Listen!  There is the dog howling again; I will teach him how I shoot.  That will be something gained, anyhow.’

“But my father, who was kind-hearted, went on: 

“’It will be much better to go on and get the poor animal, who is crying for hunger.  The poor fellow is barking for help; he is calling like a man in distress.  Let us go to him.’

“So we started out through this mist, through this thick continuous fall of snow, which filled the air, which moved, floated, fell, and chilled the skin with a burning sensation like a sharp, rapid pain as each flake melted.  We were sinking in up to our knees in this soft, cold mass, and we had to lift our feet very high in order to walk.  As we advanced the dog’s voice became clearer and stronger.  My uncle cried:  ‘Here he is!’ We stopped to observe him as one does when he meets an enemy at night.