'M. le Maire perceives,' he said, his lips trembling almost too much to
form the words, 'that the winds are walking about.' 'Hush, for God's
sake!' said the other, grasping him by the arm.

This recalled me to myself; and I followed Lecamus, who stood waiting
for me holding the door a little ajar. He went on strangely, like--I can
use no other words to express it--a man making his way in the face of a
crowd, a thing very surprising to me. I followed him close; but the
moment I emerged from the doorway something caught my breath. The same
feeling seized me also. I gasped; a sense of suffocation came upon me; I
put out my hand to lay hold upon my guide. The solid grasp I got of his
arm re-assured me a little, and he did not hesitate, but pushed his way
on. We got out clear of the gate and the shadow of the wall, keeping
close to the little watch-tower on the west side. Then he made a pause,
and so did I. We stood against the tower and looked out before us. There
was nothing there. The darkness was great, yet through the gloom of the
night I could see the division of the road from the broken ground on
either side; there was nothing there. I gasped, and drew myself up close
against the wall, as Lecamus had also done. There was in the air, in the
night, a sensation the most strange I have ever experienced. I have felt
the same thing indeed at other times, in face of a great crowd, when
thousands of people were moving, rustling, struggling, breathing around
me, thronging all the vacant space, filling up every spot. This was the
sensation that overwhelmed me here--a crowd: yet nothing to be seen but
the darkness, the indistinct line of the road. We could not move for
them, so close were they round us. What do I say? There was
nobody--nothing--not a form to be seen, not a face but his and mine. I
am obliged to confess that the moment was to me an awful moment. I
could not speak. My heart beat wildly as if trying to escape from my
breast--every breath I drew was with an effort. I clung to Lecamus with