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CHAPTER V.
MISANTHROPY PLAYS ITS PRANKS.
A strange and alarming grinding of teeth reached him through the
darkness.
It was enough to drive one back: he advanced. To those to whom silence
has become dreadful a howl is comforting.
That fierce growl reassured him; that threat was a promise. There was
there a being alive and awake, though it might be a wild beast. He
advanced in the direction whence came the snarl.
He turned the corner of a wall, and, behind in the vast sepulchral light
made by the reflection of snow and sea, he saw a thing placed as if for
shelter. It was a cart, unless it was a hovel. It had wheels--it was a
carriage. It had a roof--it was a dwelling. From the roof arose a
funnel, and out of the funnel smoke. This smoke was red, and seemed to
imply a good fire in the interior. Behind, projecting hinges indicated a
door, and in the centre of this door a square opening showed a light
inside the caravan. He approached.
Whatever had growled perceived his approach, and became furious. It was
no longer a growl which he had to meet; it was a roar. He heard a sharp
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