Barlasch sat down wearily
against a pine tree, when they first caught sight of a distant
church-tower. The country is much broken up into little valleys
here, through which streams find their way to the Niemen. Each
river necessitated a rapid descent and an arduous climb over
slippery snow.
"Voila," said Barlasch. "That is Kowno. I am done. Go on, mon
capitaine. I will lie here, and if I am not dead to-morrow morning,
I will join you."
Louis looked at him with a slow smile.
"I am tired as you," he said. "We will rest here until the moon
rises."
Already the bare larches threw shadows three times their own length
on the snow. Near at hand it glittered like a carpet of diamonds,
while the distance was of a pale blue, merging to grey on the
horizon. A far-off belt of pines against a sky absolutely cloudless
suggested infinite space--immeasurable distance. Nothing was sharp
and clearly outlined, but hazy, silvery, as seen through a thin
veil. The sea would seem to be our earthly picture of infinite
space, but no sea speaks of distance so clearly as the plain of
Lithuania--absolutely flat, quite lonely. The far-off belt of pines
only leads the eye to a shadow beyond, which is another pine-wood;
and the traveller walking all day towards it knows that when at
length he gets there he will see just such another on the far
horizon.
Louis sat down wearily beside Barlasch. As far as eye could see,
they were alone in this grim white world.
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