epugnance, almost of fear. And so equal were the combatants that
the lights of the village were in sight, and he had not decreased the
distance between himself and the other. Seeing the lights, however, his
curiosity got the upper hand. He slightly quickened his pace, and almost
immediately beheld the shape of a man relieved against the night, and
treading onward through the snow. And as the sound of the footsteps had
been disagreeable to his nerves, so the contours of the moving blackness
repelled him. He did not like the look of this man whose footprints were
the same as his own, and he decided not to join him. But, moving rather
cautiously, he gained a little upon him, in order to make sure, if
possible, whether or not he was a neighbor or an acquaintance.

The figure seemed somehow familiar to our man, indeed, oddly familiar.
Nevertheless, he was unable to identify it. As he followed it, more and
more certain did he become that he had seen it, that he knew it. And
yet--did he know it? Had he seen it? It was almost as if one part of him
denied while the other affirmed. He longed, yet feared, to see the face.
But the face never looked back. And so, one at a little distance behind
the other, they came into the village.

Here a strange thing occurred.

There were very few people about, but there were a few, and two or
three of them, meeting the person our man was following, greeted him
respectfully. But these same people, when immediately afterward they
encountered the other, who had known them for years, and whom they of
course knew, showed the greatest perturbation; one, a woman, even signs
of terror. They gave him no greeting, shrank from him as he passed,
and stared after him, as if bemused, when he was gone by. Their behavior
was almost incredible. But he was so set on what was before him that he
stopped to ask no questions.

The village was a long one. Always one behind the other, walking at an
even pace, the two men traversed it, approaching at last the outskirts,
where, separated from the other habitations, and surrounded by a garden
in which the trees were laden with snow, stood the house of the man who
now watched and followed, with a growing wonder and curiosity, combined
with an ever-growing repugnance, him who made the footprints, who had
been saluted by the villagers, whose figure and general aspect seemed in
somewise familiar to him, and yet whom he could not recognize. Where
could this person be going