Woods and mountains held aloof, communing with the stars.

They were kindred and of one house; it was man who was alien, a stranger and alone.

The hilltop cared not that he lay thereon; the grass would grow as greenly when he was in his grave; all his tragedies since time began he might reenact there below, and the mountains would not bend to look.
He flung his arm across his eyes to shut out the moonlight, and tried to sleep.

Finding the attempt a vain one, and that the night pressed more and more heavily upon him, he sat up with the intention of shaking the negro awake, and so providing himself with other company than his own thoughts.
His eyes had been upon the mountains, but now, with the sudden movement, he faced the eastern horizon and a long cleft between the hills.

Far down this opening something was on fire, burning fiercely and redly.