"It's stupid!" I said to myself. "That phenom-
enon is only terrible because I don't understand
it; everything we don't understand is mysterious."

I tried to persuade myself, but at the same time
I did not leave off lashing the horse. When we*
reached the posting station I pufposely stayed for
a full hour chatting with the overseer, and read
through two or three newspapers, but the feeling
of uneasiness did not leave me. On the way back
the light was not to be seen, but on the other hand
the silhouettes of the huts, of the poplars, and of the
hill up which I had to drive, seemed to me as though
animated. And why the light was there I don't
know to this day.
The second terror I experienced was excited by



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Panic Fears 247

a circumstance no less trivial. ... I was return-
ing from a romantic interview. It was one o'clock
at night, the time when nature is buried in the
soundest, sweetest sleep before the dawn. That
time nature was not sleeping, and one could not call
the night a still one. Corncrakes, quails, nightin-
gales, and woodcocks were calling, crickets and
grasshoppers were chirruping. There was a light
mist over the grass, and clouds were scurrying
straight ahead across the sky near the moon. Nature
was awake, as though afraid of missing the best
moments of her life.
I walked along a narrow path at the very edge
of a railway embankment. The moonlight glided
over the lines which were already covered with dew.
Great shadows from the clouds kept flitting over the
embankment. Far ahead, a dim green light was
glimmering peacefully.
"So everything is well, ,, I thought, looking at
them.
