"Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. I swear it. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there. Soldiers were stationed at different points of the street to keep off the mob, and others were riding backwards and forwards to maintain an open space for the passage of the procession. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations.
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