beneath the heavy, rain-soaked moss like so many forest giants clad in ashen winding-sheets. When he reached Jackson Square, the first sunbeams were fingering the gold cross over the way. What a night had passed since the last beam of the evening sun had fallen on the same spot!
The stairs were still dark; at the top of the first flight his foot encountered some slippery substance, and he fell heavily forward, putting out his arm to save himself.
When he reached his room he found that his left arm was badly sprained. He would have no use of it for several weeks, and would besides be obliged to wear it, for some days at least, in a sling. After binding it up as best he could, he opened the door of his aviary, and his friendly birds flew to greet him with merry roundelay. In the farther corner of the cage he saw something lying stiff and shining. Pax, his milk-white dove, his nearest friend, had died in the night.
