Deceit and cupidity and corrupt ambition were at work in his brain.

Shrink back, Moon and Starbeam! On that child's brow play the demons who had followed the father's step to his bed of sleep.
Back to his own room, close at hand, crept Olivier Dalibard.

The walls were lined with books,--many in language and deep in lore.

Moon and Starbeam, ye love the midnight solitude of the scholar! The Provencal stole to the casement, and looked forth.

All was serene,--breathless trees and gleaming sculpture and whitened sward, girdled by the mass of shadow.