But he stopped short, and went on very quietly as before, wondering why he had quickened his pace.

Soon there spread before him those deserted streets, which are not cheerful in the daytime, to say nothing of the evening.

Now they were even more dim and lonely: the lanterns began to grow rarer, oil, evidently, had been less liberally supplied.

Then came wooden houses and fences: not a soul anywhere; only the snow sparkled in the streets, and mournfully veiled the low-roofed cabins with their closed shutters.

He approached the spot where the street crossed a vast square with houses barely visible on its farther side, a square which seemed a fearful desert.
Afar, a tiny spark glimmered from some watchman's box, which seemed to stand on the edge of the world.