1T0 
THE GOLDEN EIVEE. 
through the leaves, in pleasant expectation of 
his getting low enough to enable you to start. 
And then, when you come back at sunset, 
how pleasant is the night. The gallant south 
wind which has blown all day has dropped. 
The air is still. At sundown day suddenly 
turns over to night, and a divine coolness 
spreads over everything: the fire becomes 
agreeable; and you, who sweltered through the 
day clad only in a shirt and trousers, will be 
glad of a second blanket to-night. You wake 
up, perhaps, to pull it on. One naturally 
wakes up between twelve and two, when sleep¬ 
ing in the open air. You get up, put a log or 
two on the fire, and look round. The moon 
makes everything as bright as day. The forest 
is full of mysterious noises. It has awakened : 
this is its day, its living time, its period of food 
and drink, of business and pleasure : not the 
hot, barren sunlight when sensible creatures 
sleep. There is movement and sound all round 
you: distant calls and cries, bodies moving 
through the boughs, little feet pattering over 
the dead leaves. Hot scents rise from the 
earth. The tired dogs have got into the ashes 
and are lying, heads in paws, trying to escape 
the merciless mosquitoes. And you, too, you 
had better get back under your mosquito net. 
And, let me warn you, do not leave a chink or 
crevice of it open, or you will be invaded by 
their triumphant hordes. 
