“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.

“I could see nothing, so I ran up to the others, and I caught sight of him; he was frightful and weird-looking; he was a big black shepherd’s dog with long hair and a wolf’s head, standing just within the gleam of light cast by our lantern on the snow.  He did not move; he was silently watching us.

“My uncle said:  ’That’s peculiar, he is neither advancing nor retreating.  I feel like taking a shot at him.’

“My father answered in a firm voice:  ‘No, we must capture him.’

“Then my brother Jacques added:  ’But he is not alone.  There is something behind him.”

“There was indeed something behind him, something gray, impossible to distinguish.  We started out again cautiously.  When he saw us approaching the dog sat down.  He did not look wicked.  Instead, he seemed pleased at having been able to attract the attention of some one.