In a brief introduction, the narrator reacts to a newspaper account of a double killing—a male lover kills his beloved and then himself. He observes that the sexes of the murderer and his victim are irrelevant; it is their love that matters. This news release does not affect the no-longer-young narrator for its sentimentality, shock value, romantic longing, or intrigue but merely reminds him of a hunting expedition in which he took part when he was younger. The narrator introduces himself as someone who was born with primitive instincts, although they have been tempered by civilized responses. Hunting, like a great love or a panoramic vista, fills him with a sense of passion and fulfillment. He recalls that he was summoned by an older cousin, Karl de Rauville, to participate in an early morning hunt in the duck marshes of Normandy. He remembers that he left Paris during an unusually premature, cold, savage winter.
His cousin exemplifies the Norman hunting tradition: a tough, spirited country gentleman, a lovable half-brute. The countryside has a hypnotic effect on the narrator. He finds himself transported into a world that he had known only through the imagination. The colors of the country, the sounds of the underbrush, and the mysterious disorder of the universe induce in him a bewildering, powerful, and magical aspect. As the narrator looks over the marshes, this sense of the unknown is reinforced, and he is tortured by the exotic landscape of fog...
(The entire section is 553 words.)