"That damned hill-devil swallows it all up," muttered Wulf.

And they went off through the snow.

The others sang and played and played cards for ever so long and 'twas
late when Maarten took his star and, with a "Good-night till next year,"
pulled the door behind him.

It was still light outside, but the sky hung full of snow; above, a grey
fleece and, lower, a swirl of great white flakes, which fell down slowly
swarming one on top of the other.

He plunged deep into it.... It was still so far to go; and his house and
his pines, he had left them all so far behind.

He was so old, so lone; it was so cold; and all the roads were white ...
all sky and snow. In the hollow lay the village: a little group of
sleeping houses round the white church-steeple; and behind it lay his
mountain, but it was like a cloud, a shapeless monster, very far away.

Above his head, stars, stars in long rows. He stood still and looked up
and found one which he saw every evening, a pale, dead star, like an old
acquaintance, which would lead him--for the last time, perhaps--back to
his mountain, back home.

And he trudged on.

There was a light in the three narrow pointed windows of the chapel and
the bell tinkled within. He went to rest a bit against the wall. What a
noise and what a bustle all the evening ... and the gin! And those rough