we do not kill much
to-day," he said, "I do not want you to catch cold; we will light a
fire." And he told the gamekeeper to cut some rushes.

We made a pile in the middle of our hut, which had a hole in the middle
of the roof to let out the smoke, and when the red flames rose up to the
clear, crystal cloisons they began to melt, gently, imperceptibly, as if
these stones of ice had sweated. Karl, who had remained outside, called
out to me: "Come and look here!" I went out of the hut and remained,
struck with astonishment. Our hut, in the shape of a cone, looked like
an enormous diamond with a heart of fire, which had been suddenly
planted there in the midst of the frozen water of the marsh. And inside
we saw two fantastic forms, those of our dogs, who were warming
themselves at the fire.

But a peculiar cry, a lost, a wandering cry, passed over our heads, and
the light from our hearth showed us the wild birds. Nothing moves one so
much as the first clamor of life which one does not see, and which is
passing through the somber air so quickly and so far off, before the
first streak of the winter's day appears on the horizon. It seems to me
at this glacial hour of dawn, as if that passing cry which is carried
away by the wings of a bird, is the sigh of a soul from the world!

"Put out the fire," Karl said. "It is getting daylight."

The sky was, in fact, beginning to grow pale, and the flights of ducks
made long, rapid spots, which were soon obliterated, on the sky.

A stream of light burst out into the night; Karl had fired, and the two
dogs ran forward.

And then, nearly every minute, now he, now I, aimed rapidly as soon as
the shadow of a flying flock appeared above the rushes. And Pierrot and
Plongeon, out of breath but happy, retrieved the bleeding birds for us,
whose eyes still, occasionally, looked at us.

The sun had risen, and it was a bright day with a blue sky, and we were
thinking of taking our departure, when two birds with extended necks and
outstretched wings, glided rapidly over our heads. I fired, and one of
them fell almost at my feet. It was a teal, with a silver breast, and
then, in the blue space above me, I heard a voice, the voice of a bird.
It was a short, repeated, heartrending lament; and the bird, the little
animal that had been spared began to turn round in the blue sky, over
our heads, looking at its dead companion which I was holding in my hand.

Karl was on his knees, his gun to his s