Erckmann-Chatrian

“ The dogs came upon the trail of the boar, and their long, full cries changed to exultant yappings; they glided along to right and left among the rocks, their noses to the ground, and they ran and leaped along the trail. Not one of them followed [Pg 333] the other's lead, until he had verified the scent for himself; like all true hunting dogs, they relied only upon themselves.
Meanwhile, the blast of the horn, the short, savage yelps of the pack, and the noise of our horses' hoofs as they pierced the sparkling snow crust, made music of an exciting, bewildering sort. ”

“ But if the parched and burning sands of Africa have their voice, like the sound of the autumn tempest growling among the crags of the forest, so, too, have the vast, snowy plains of the North their characteristic cry, that accords so well with the dreary winter landscape, where all is sleeping, and not even a dead leaf rustles to disturb the perfect stillness; and this cry,—it is the howl of the wolf! [Pg 192]
Rousing himself with difficulty, Sperver sprang from his chair, rushed to the window, and stared down at the foot of the Tower.
"Can a wolf have fallen into the moat?" he cried. ”

“ The kid, browsing in the shade of the great trees on the green hillside, is as poetic an object as the retreat that he prefers; the wild boar, as fierce and savage as the trackless brakes through which he roams; the eagle as proud and lofty as the towering peaks where he rests in his sweeping flight; the lion as majestic as the mighty arches of his den,—but the wolf, the fox, and the ferret seek the darkness, with fear their only companion ”

“ The hunting-horn saluted the mountain for the last time.
"That is my friend Sebalt mourning down there," said Sperver. "No one is a better judge of horses and dogs than he, and when it comes to sounding the horn, there is not his equal in all Germany. Just hear how mellow those notes are, Gaston. Poor Sebalt! he is pining away since our master became ill; he cannot hunt as he used to. His only consolation is to climb the Altenberg every morning just at daybreak, and play the Count's favorite airs. He thinks that may cure him." ”

“ Meanwhile the Count's illness continued its course. All that Sperver had told me verified itself. Sometimes the Count, starting up and leaning on his elbow with outstretched neck and staring eyes, would mutter, "She is coming! She is coming!" Then Gideon would shake his head and climb the signal-tower; but in vain did he look to right and left: the Black Plague was nowhere to be seen. ”

“ There is nothing that imparts a more melancholy sense to the beholder than a winter scene among these mountains. The irregular line of crests, the dark ravines, the denuded trees and bushes sparkling with a tracery of hoar frost, all assume before your eyes a look of indescribable desolation and still sadness; and the silence, so profound that you can hear a dead leaf rustle on the snow-crust, or a pine-needle swirl from [Pg 287] its branch,—this silence oppresses you; it forces upon you the realization of man's littleness in the scale of Nature's vast economy. ”

“ The animals whinnied and increased their pace, cheered doubtless by the prospect of a warm shelter. Every now and then, Sperver turned and looked behind him with evident anxiety, and I was not free from a certain indefinable apprehension as I reflected upon the strange account of his master's malady which the steward had given me. Besides, man's spirit [Pg 34] harmonizes itself with its surroundings, and, for my part, I know of nothing more melancholy than a forest covered with snow and hoar frost, and stirred by a moaning wind; the trees have a sombre, icy look that chills you to the heart. ”