g in the forest. As he
approached the firs and saw how dark it was beneath them, the shadowy
depths suggested uncertain shapes hiding therein, and his memory
immediately reverted to the book of magic he had read at the castle.

There could not be such things, and yet no one in his heart doubted
their existence; deny it as they might with their tongues as they sat at
the supper-table and handed round the ale, out of doors in the night,
the haste to pass the haunted spot, the bated breath, and the fearful
glances cast around, told another tale. He endeavoured to call
philosophy to his aid; he remembered, too, how many nights he had spent
in the deepest forest without seeing anything, and without even thinking
of such matters. He reproved himself for his folly, and asked himself if
ever he could hope to be a successful leader of men who started at a
shadow. In vain: the tone of his mind had been weakened by the strain it
had undergone.

Instead of strengthening him, the teachings of philosophy now seemed
cold and feeble, and it occurred to him that possibly the belief of the
common people (fully shared by their religious instructors) was just as
much entitled to credence as these mere suppositions and theories. The
details of the volume recurred to his mind; the accurate description of
the demons of the forest and the hill, and especially the horrible
vampires enfolding the victim with outstretched wings. In spite of
himself, incredulous, yet excited, he pressed his horse to greater
speed, though the track was narrow and very much broken under the firs.
He obeyed, and trotted, but reluctantly, and needed continual urging.

The yellow spark of a glowworm shining by a bush made him set his teeth;
trifling and well known as it was, the light suddenly seen thrilled him
with the terror of the unexpected. Strange rushings sounded among the
fern, as if the wings of a demon brushed it as he travelled. Felix knew
that they were caused by rabbits hastening off, or a boar bounding away,
yet they increased the feverish excitement with which he was burdened.
Though dark beneath the firs, it was not like the darkness of the
beeches; these trees did not form a perfect canopy overhead everywhere.
In places he could see where a streak of moonlight came aslant through
an opening and reached the ground. One such streak fell upon the track
ahead; the trees there had decayed and fallen, and a broad band of light
lit up the way.

As he appr