woods of oak and walnut; green hills alternated here and there with meadows. Twice already they had seen cornfields, from which they concluded that they were near some village; but an hour had already passed, and no human habitation appeared. The sky was already quite dark, and only a red gleam lingered on the western horizon.
"The deuce!" said the philosopher Thomas Brutus. "I was almost certain we would soon reach a village."
The theologian still remained silent, looked round him, then put his pipe again between his teeth, and all three continued their way.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed the philosopher, and stood still. "Now the road itself is disappearing."
"Perhaps we shall find a farm farther on," answered the theologian, without taking his pipe out of his mouth.
Meanwhile the night had descended; clouds increased the darkness, and according to all appearance there was no chance of moon or stars appearing. The seminarists found that they had lost the way altogether.
After the philosopher had vainly sought for a footpath, he exclaimed, "Where have we got to?"
The theologian thought for a while, and said, "Yes, it is really dark."
