counter-devices of the dark craft which had evoked them. Gaston,
then, as in after years, though he saw no ghosts, could not bear to
trifle with such matters: to his companions it was a delight, as they
supped, to note the indication of nameless terrors, if it were only
in the starts and crackings of the timbers of the old place. To the
turbid spirits of that generation the midnight heaven itself was by
no means a restful companion; and many were the hours wasted by those
young astrophiles in puzzling out the threats, or the enigmatic
promises, of a starry sky.

The fact that armed persons were still abroad, thieves or assassins,
lurking under many disguises, [75] might explain what happened on the
last evening of their time together, when they sat late at the open
windows as the night increased, serene but covered summer night,
aromatic, velvet-footed. What coolness it had was pleasant after the
wine; and they strolled out, fantastically muffled in certain old
heraldic dresses of parade, caught up in the hall as they passed
through, Gaston alone remaining to attend on his grandfather. In
about an hour's time they returned, not a little disconcerted, to
tell a story of which Gaston was reminded (seeing them again in
thought as if only half real, amid the bloomy night, with blood upon
their boyish flowers) as they crossed his path afterwards at three
intervals. Listening for the night-hawk, pushing aside the hedge-row
to catch the evening breath of the honeysuckle, they had sauntered
on, scarcely looking in advance, along the causeway. Soft sounds
came out of the distance, but footsteps on the hard road they had not
heard, when three others fronted them face to face--Jasmin, Amadee,
and Camille--their very selves, visible in the light of the lantern
carried by Camille: they might have felt the breath upon their
cheeks: real, close, definite, cap for cap, plume for plume, flower