Raymond listened. The noise was repeated twice, clearly enough to distinguish it from those vague voices that make up the great silence of the night. But it was still too weak to tell whether it came from near or far-within the walls of the great country house, or outside-from among those shadowy alcoves in the garden.
I got up gently. The window was half open, so I opened it all the way. The moonlight spread quietly over meadows and woods among which stood out the scattered ruins of the old monastery, truncated columns, along with mutilated arches, fragments of arcades, and torn buttresses of walls. Everything was enveloped in a gentle breeze, which passed noiselessly through the still leafless branches of the trees, and stirred the young buds on the bushes.
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