THE SWALLOW. 201 
shot from a bow. Unlke man, who is incessantly called back to 
earth, they seem to gravitate above. Never have I seen the image 
of a more sovereign liberty. Their tricks, their sports, were infinite. 
We travellers regarded with pleased eyes these other travellers, 
which bore their pilgrimage so gaily and so lightly. The horizon, 
nevertheless, was heavy, and ringed by the Alps, which at that hour 
seemed close at hand. The black pine-woods were already darkened 
and overshadowed by the evening; the glaciers glittered again with 
a ghastly whiteness. The sorrowful barrier of these grand mountains 
separated us from France, towards which we were soon about to 
travel slowly. 
