At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. "That man should have been an Italian bravo," murmured the knight, sinking into a chair: "he has neither fear nor compunction. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. It gave her joy to see them laughing, even though she was unsure of what she had done wrong. Afterward goes on to Oxford. ‘Like a vision she were. .
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