But also the hobgoblins, those wild and rough, shaggy ghosts of the forest, otherwise living so secluded, were lured by the
irresistible songs of the fairies of happiness; through their ravines of run-aground opinions they drove up into the light of the full moon and swayed in the dance of the cognitive worlds.

Often they were teased by the green wood-women, which then hid dreamily behind a dense curtain of supple creepers.