Explore "A Rogue's Tragedy" by Bernard Capes on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
On a flat open width of the Argentière road, a mile or so to the north-east of Le Prieuré, a little company of astronomers was gathered to gaze at the moon. They carried glasses and instruments; there was not the least air of privacy about their proceedings; the spot selected was open to all. There was an extension in the long tear of the valley in this place, the increased interval between the mountains being occupied by a humpish land strewn with boulders.
About eight o'clock of a September evening, this group of enthusiasts -- drinking in lunar obfuscation; its telescopes, like so many glasses brimming with moonshine, tilted to its eyes -- was joined by a single individual, whose approach from Le Prieuré, it seemed, had occurred unnoticed by it in its preoccupation. Nor did his arrival affect it now, further than to its tacit acceptance of his company as of that of a recognised kindred spirit.