THE NIGHT. 



175 



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First, the fatal need of the stomach, which shackles all ^ 

 i of us, but which especially persecutes that living flame, that a 

 devouring fire, the bird, which is forced incessantly to 

 renew itself, to seek, to wander, to forget, condemned, without hope 

 of relief, to the barren mobility of its too changeful impressions. 



The other fatal necessity is that of night, of slumber, hours of 

 shadow and ambush, when his wing is broken or captured, or, while 

 defenceless, he loses the power of flight, strength, and light. 



When we speak of light, we mean safety for all creatures. 



It is the guarantee of life for man and the animal ; it is, as it 

 were, the serene, calm, and reassuring smile, the privilege of Nature. 

 It puts an end to the sombre terrors which pursue us in the shadows, 

 to the not unfounded fears, and to the torment also of cruel dreams — 

 to the troublous thoughts which agitate and overthrow the soul. 



In the security of civil association which has existed for so long 

 a period, man can scarcely comprehend the agonies of savage life 

 during these hours that Nature leaves it defenceless, when her terrible 

 impartiality opens the way to death no less legitimate than life. In 

 vain you reproach her. She tells the bird that the owl also has a 

 right to live. She replies to man : " I must feed my lions." 



Read in books of travels the panic of unfortunate castaways lost 

 in the solitudes of Africa, of the miserable fugitive slave who only 

 escapes the barbarity of man to fall into the hands of a barbarous 

 nature. Wliat tortures, as soon as at sunset the lion's ill-omened 

 scouts, the wolves and jackals, begin to prowl, accompanying him at 

 a distance, preceding him to scent his prey, or following him like 

 ghouls ! Tliey whine in your ears : " To-morrow we shall seek th}^ 

 bones 1" But, O hon-or ! see here, at but two paces distant ! He 



