e depths.
The child stared with bewildered eyes at this great star, with which she was unfamiliar, and which terrified her.
The planet was, in fact, very near the horizon and was traversing a dense layer of mist which imparted to it a horrible ruddy hue.
The mist, gloomily empurpled, magnified the star.
One would have called it a luminous wound.
A cold wind was blowing from the plain.
The forest was dark, not a leaf was moving; there were none of the vague, fresh gleams of summertide.
Great boughs uplifted themselves in frightful wise. Slender and misshapen bushes whistled in the clearings.
The tall grasses undulated like eels under the north wind.
The nettles seemed to twist long arms furnished with claws in search of prey. Some bits of dry heather, tossed by the breeze, flew rapidly by, and had the air of fleeing in terror before something which was coming after. On all sides there were lugubrious stretches.
The darkness was bewildering.
Man requires light.
Whoever buries himself in the opposite of day feels his heart contract.
When the eye sees black, the heart sees trouble.
In an eclipse in the night, in the sooty opacity, there is anxiety even for the stoutest of hearts. No one walks alone in the forest at night without trembling. Shadows and trees--two formidable densities.