dBooks desire

Michael seemed endeavouring to
keep up his courage by singing; his music, however, was not of a kind
to disperse melancholy; he sung, in a sort of chant, one of the most
dismal ditties his present auditors had ever heard, and St. Aubert at
length discovered it to be a vesper-hymn to his favourite saint.
They travelled on, sunk in that thoughtful melancholy, with which
twilight and solitude impress the mind. Michael had now ended his
ditty, and nothing was heard but the drowsy murmur of the breeze
among the woods, and its light flutter, as it blew freshly into the
carriage. They were at length roused by the sound of fire-arms. St.
Aubert called to the muleteer to stop, and they listened. The noise
was not repeated; but presently they heard a rustling among the
brakes. St. Aubert drew forth a pistol, and ordered Michael to
proceed as fast as possible; who had not long obeyed, before a horn
sounded, that made the mountains ring. He looked again from the
window, and then saw a young man spring from the bushes into the
road, followed by a couple of dogs.


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