The shepherd who passed him looked gray and spectral in the lurid light.
The baron strolled on to the other side of the lake whence Anton had taken his last look of the lordly home.

The castle now stood before him in a crimson glow; every window-pane seemed on fire, and the red roses lay like drops of blood upon the dark green climbers beneath.

And nearer and nearer rolled on the black clouds, as if to shroud the bright pile from sight.

Not a leaf stirred, not a ripple curled the water.

The baron looked down into the water for some living thing, a spider, a dragon-fly, and started back from the pale face that met him, and which at first he did not recognize as his own.