His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. Crossing them, he ascended an eminence, which, from its singular shape, seems to have been the site of a Roman encampment, and which commands a magnificent prospect. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. But at the beginning of the affray, when he thought every one was too much occupied with his own concerns to remark his absence, he slipped out of the room, not for the purpose of avoiding the engagement (for cowardice was not one of his failings), but because he had another object in view. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death.
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