The last tint of sunset died, and a young moon, hanging over the ice buttresses of the giant peak of Dunagiri, held undisputed right to shed her pale light over an enchanted world. The snowy crests stood now in superb contrast to the abysmal gloom of the valleys. Interwoven with my dreams, I was vaguely conscious of these sublime impressions throughout the night, until a new day was heralded by the first faint flush of dawn.
