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The night deepened. The trees environing the old chateau, keeping

its solitary state apart, moved in a rising wind, as though they

threatened the pile of building massive and dark in the gloom. Up

the two terrace flights of steps the rain ran wildly, and beat at

the great door, like a swift messenger rousing those within;

uneasy rushes of wind went through the hall, among the old spears

and knives, and passed lamenting up the stairs, and shook the

curtains of the bed where the last Marquis had slept. East, West,

North, and South, through the woods, four heavy-treading, unkempt

figures crushed the high grass and cracked the branches, striding

on cautiously to come together in the courtyard. Four lights

broke out there, and moved away in different directions, and all

was black again.