was not a sign to be seen! I looked in every direction and Gizana did
the same--pulling at his leash at first and whining. Then he lay down
again by my side, rested his muzzle on my knees, and resigned himself to
disappointment. Among the naked roots of the oak-tree under which I was
sitting. I could see countless ants swarming over the parched grey earth
and winding among the acorns, withered oak-leaves, dry twigs, russet
moss, and slender, scanty blades of grass. In serried files they kept
pressing forward on the level track they had made for themselves--some
carrying burdens, some not. I took a piece of twig and barred their way.
Instantly it was curious to see how they made light of the obstacle.
Some got past it by creeping underneath, and some by climbing over it. A
few, however, there were (especially those weighted with loads) who were
nonplussed what to do. They either halted and searched for a way round,
or returned whence they had come, or climbed the adjacent herbage, with
the evident intention of reaching my hand and going up the sleeve of my
jacket. From this interesting spectacle my attention was distracted by
the yellow wings of a butterfly which was fluttering alluringly before
me. Yet I had scarcely noticed it before it flew away to a little
distance and, circling over some half-faded blossoms of white clover,
settled on one of them. Whether it was the sun's warmth that delighted
it, or whether it was busy sucking nectar from the flower, at all events
it seemed thoroughly comfortable. It scarcely moved its wings at all,
and pressed itself down into the clover until I could hardly see
its body. I sat with my chin on my hands and watched it with intense
interest.
Suddenly Gizana sprang up and gave me such a violent jerk that I nearly
rolled over. I looked round. At the edge of the wood a hare had just
come into view, with one ear bent down and the other one sharply
pricked. The blood rushed to my head, and I forgot everything else as
I shouted, slipped the dog, and rushed towards the spot. Yet all was in
vain. The hare stopped, made a rush, and was lost to view.
How confused I felt when at that moment Turka stepped from the
undergrowth (he had been following the hounds as they ran along the
edges of the wood)! He had seen my mistake (which had consisted in my
not biding my time), and now threw me a contemptuous look as he said,
'Ah, master!' And you should have heard the tone in which he said it! It
would have been a relief to me if he had then and there suspended me to
his saddle instead of the hare. For a while I could only stand miserably
where I was, without attempting to recall the dog, and ejaculate as I
slapped my knees, 'Good heavens! What a fool I was!' I could hear the
hounds retreating into the distance, and baying along the further side
of the wood as they pursued the hare, while Turka rallied them with
blasts on his gorgeous horn: yet I did not stir.
VIII -- WE PLAY GAMES
THE hunt was over, a cloth had been spread in the shade of some young
birch-trees, and the whole party was disposed around it. The butler,
Gabriel, had stamped down the surrounding grass, wiped the plates in
readiness, and unpacked from a basket a quantity of plums and peaches
wrapped in leaves.
Through the green branches of the young birch-trees the sun glittered
and threw little glancing balls of light upon the pattern of my napkin,
my legs, and the bald moist head of Gabriel. A soft breeze played in
