These two great birds had met here, not far from the ravine, one evening at .  
It was spring; the snow was on the slopes, whilst in the forest and valleys it became grey and ; the pine-trees a odour; and the at the bottom of the ravine had .
 
The sun already gave warmth in the daytime. The twilight was verdurous, lingering, and with life. Wolf-packs were astir, and the males fought each other for the females.
 
This spring, with the sun and the soft breeze, an unwonted heaviness the male-bird's body. he used to fly or roost, or sit silent, fly swiftly or slowly, because there were causes both around and within him: when hungry he would find a hare, kill, and it; when the sun was too hot or the wind too keen, he would shelter from them; when he saw a wolf, he would hastily fly away from it.
 
Now it was no longer so.
 
It was not a sense of hunger or self-preservation now that induced him to fly, to roost, cry, or be silent: something outside of him and his feelings now him.
 
When the twilight came, as though befogged, not knowing why, he rose from the spot on which he had perched all day and flew from to glade, from crag to crag, moving his great wings softly and peering hard into the , verdurous darkness. In one of the he saw birds similar to himself, a female among them. Without knowing why, he threw himself amidst them, feeling an strength within him and a great for all the other males.
 
He walked slowly round the female, treading hard on the ground, spreading out his wings, tossing back his head to look askance at the males. One, he who until now had been victor, tried to him— then flew at him with prepared to strike, and a long sile............