Midnight
It was all quite dark in the town , save where some light gleamed ruddily through the crevices of house-shutters , or some group went homeward with lanterns chanting drinking-songs . The streets were all white with ice : the high walls and roofs loomed black against them . There was scarce a sound save the riot of the winds down the passages as they tossed the creaking signs and shook the tall lamp-irons . -LSB- Illustration : The portals of the cathedral were unclosed after the Midnight Mass -RSB- So many passers-by had trodden through and through the snow , so many diverse paths had crossed and recrossed each other , that the dog had a hard task to retain any hold on the track he followed . But he kept on his way , though the cold pierced him to the bone , and the jagged ice cut his feet , and the hunger in his body gnawed like a rat 's teeth . He kept on his way , a poor gaunt , shivering thing , and by long patience traced the steps he loved into the very heart of the burgh and up to the steps of the great cathedral . `` He is gone to the things that he loved , '' thought Patrasche : he could not understand , but he was full of sorrow and of pity for the art-passion that to him was so incomprehensible and yet so sacred .