The river suddenly narrowed
again, with high pines on either bank, a silent, lonesome reach, perhaps
indeed one of the loneliest spots in all Europe. Once the dismal howl of
a wolf sounded close to where we passed, but my guide made no remark.
After nearly a mile, the stream again opened out into a broad lake
where, in the distance, I saw rising sheer and high from the water, a
long square building of three stories, with a tall round tower at one
corner--an old medieval castle it seemed to be. From one of the small
windows of the tower, as we came into view of it, a light was shining
upon the water, and my guide seeing it, grunted in satisfaction. It had
undoubtedly been placed there as signal.
With great caution he approached the place, keeping in the deep shadow
of the bank until we came exactly opposite the flanking-tower. In the
lighted window I distinctly saw a dark figure of someone appear for a
moment, and then my guide struck a match and held it in his fingers
until it was wholly consumed.
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