midnight
I know not who wrote the music , but whoever he may be , thanks be to him for having found in a few notes , and in the mournful melody of a voice , the expression of infinite human sadness . I have never since then heard the first measures of that air without flying from it as one pursued by a spirit ; and when I wish to soften my heart by a tear , I sing within myself the plaintive burden of that song , and feel ready to weep , -- I , who never weep ! We reached the little mole that stretches out into the lake where the boats are moored ; it is the harbor of Aix , and is situated at about half a league from the town . It was midnight , and there were no longer any carriages or donkeys on the pier to convey strangers to the town . The distance was too great for a delicate suffering woman to walk , and after knocking fruitlessly at the doors of one or two cottages in the vicinity of the lake , the boatmen proposed carrying the lady to Aix . They cheerfully slipped their oars from the rings which fastened them to the boat , and tied them together with the ropes of their nets ; then they placed one of the cushions of the boat on these ropes , and thus formed a soft and flexible kind of litter for the stranger . Four of them then took up the oars , and each placing one end on his shoulder , they set off with the palanquin , to which they imparted no other motion than that of their steps .