The fiddles still sounded, but far away like an echo.

The lights went down, all but a circle on the stage, and into that circle stepped my enemy of the skin cap.
He had three others with him.

I heard a whisper behind me, and the words were those which Kuprasso had used the day before.

These bedlamites were called the Companions of the Rosy Hours, and Kuprasso had promised great dancing.
I hoped to goodness they would not see us, for they had fairly given me the horrors.

Peter felt the same, and we both made ourselves very small in that dark corner.