His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you. Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course.
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