Brehal it was quite dark. The road became absolutely deserted, and although
one or two people on bicycles passed me about this time, they were carrying
no lamps as is the usual custom in France, where the rules governing the
use of a _bicyclette_ are so numerous and intricate, but so absolutely
ignored. My own lamp seemed to be a grave distraction among the invisible
occupants of the roadside meadows, and often much lowing rose up on either
side. The hedges would suddenly whirr with countless grasshoppers,
although, no doubt, they had been amusing themselves with their monotonous
noises for hours. The strange sound seemed to follow me in a most
persistent fashion, and then would be merged into the croaking of a vast
assemblage of frogs. These sounds, however, carry with them no real menace,
however late the hour, but there is something which may almost strike
terror into the heart, though it might almost be considered foolish by
those who have not experienced a midnight ride in this country. The clipped
and shaven trees that in daylight merely appear ridiculous, in the darkness
assume an altogether different character. To the vivid imagination, it is
easy to see a witch's broom swaying in the wind; a group of curious and
distorted stems will suggest a row of large but painfully thin brownies,
holding hands as they dance. Every moment, two or three figures of gaunt
and lanky witches in spreading skirts will alarm you as they suddenly
appear round a corner. When they are not so uncanny in their outlines, the
trees will appear like clipped poodles standing upon their hind legs, or
they will suddenly assume the character of a grove of palm trees. After a
long stretch of this sort of country, it is pleasant to pass through some
sleeping village where there are just two or three lighted windows to show
that there are still a few people awake besides oneself in this lonely
country. I can imagine that the village of Hyenville has some claims to
beauty. I know at least that it lies in a valley, watered by the river
Sienne, and that the darkness allowed me to see an old stone bridge, with a
cross raised above the centre of the parapet. Soon after this I began to