midnight
La Salle listened a moment , went to the door , and then beckoned to his companions to follow . The rain fell heavily , but the wind came warm and gently from the balmy south , and no rude blast shrieked and sighed amid the ice-peaks . The strange sounds were sweeter , louder , and apparently nearer than before . Soft and sad as the strains of the disconsolate Necker , plaintive as the mournings of men without hope , wild as the cries of the midnight forest , and the sighings of wind-tossed branches . La Salle laughed a low , glad laugh . `` You may sleep soundly , '' said he ; `` the coots and ducks have come northward , and the spring is here at last . To-morrow will bring us sport to repletion , for the sounds you hear are the love-songs of the sea-birds , whose voices , however harsh , grow sweet when the sun brings back again the season of love and flowers . ''