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Renzo went forward from hut to hut, carefully examining every

countenance he could discern within-whether broken down by

suffering, distorted by spasm, or fixed in death. Hitherto he met

none but men, and judged, therefore, that the women were

distributed in some other part of the inclosure. The state of the

atmosphere seemed to add to the horror of the scene: a dense and

dark fog involved all things. The disc of the sun, as if seen

through a veil, shed a feeble light in its own part of the sky,

but darted down a heavy deathlike blast of heat: a confused

murmuring of distant thunder might be heard. Not a leaf moved,

not a bird was seen-save the swallow only, which descended to the

plain, and, alarmed at the dismal sounds around, remounted the

air, and disappeared. Nature seemed at war with human

existence-hundreds seemed to grow worse-the last struggle more

afflictive-and no hour of bitterness was comparable to that.