too was darkness, but darkness unrelieved. Near at hand,
immediately below the bounding walls, rose up the dark swelling
outlines that he knew to be the woods of the park, crowding up
against the very castle walls themselves; and beyond, dimness
after dimness, to meet the sky. . . .

It seemed to him incredible, as he looked, that things of such
moment should be under way, somewhere beyond that sleeping
country; and yet, as his eyes grew accustomed to the night, he
could make out at last a faint glow in the sky to the north that
marked the outskirts of that enormous city of which he was a
citizen, where such matters even now were approaching a decision.

For it was only little by little that he had become aware that a
real crisis was at hand. The Cardinal had told him the facts,
indeed, in the dispassionate, tolerant manner that was
characteristic of him; but the point of view necessary to take
them in as a coherent whole, to see them, not as isolated events,
but with the effect of the past upon them and their hidden
implications and probabilities for the future--this needed that
the observer should be of the temper and atmosphere of the time.
For prophecy just now was little better than feeling at outlines
in the dark. Facts could be discerned and apprehended by all--and
the priest was well aware of his own capacities in this--but
their interpretation was another matter altogether. . . . He felt
helpless and puzzled. . . .

The General came towards him.

"Well," he said, "anything to be seen?"