130 THE MARKHOR 



disturbing their majesties' evening repast. So still 

 is the night in these parts that I scarcely dare to 

 breathe. If only they do not come too near or scent 

 us on the breeze ! 



Hour by hour does the night get lighter, and the 

 air becomes ever more rarefied. I begin to shiver, 

 and my eyelids droop over tired eyes. 



But what was that ? Can I have heard aright ? 



A distant noise, as of falling stones, reaches my 

 ear ; but all is still again, if anything stiller than 

 before, except for the snoring of the men. 



What a brilliant, glimmering, star-bespangled sky ! 

 What a boundless world of flame and light stretches 

 above us, unseen for the most part by us mortals 

 accustomed now to sickly lamplight and to the world's 

 cheap, artificial glare ! 



It needs a night spent up here amongst the lonely 

 rocks to convince one of the majesty of reality. For 

 all these starry eyes follow the fortunes of the earth 

 with mathematical precision to-day as yesterday, and 

 as in the beginning of all things. And they still 

 jealously guard their secrets and riddles from us as 

 they twinkle in the dark sky like wax lights on a 

 Christmas tree. 



" Stilly night, holy night ! " 



Why has the Almighty seen fit to make the night 

 so much more beautiful than the day and then 

 ordained that it shall be the time of sleep, of forget- 

 fulness ? The sun, on the other hand, shines on 



