In a few moments this obscuration was repeated, and the same thing happened a third time, and a fourth, and many times more, just as if some one were passing up and down in that particular room in the middle of the night restlessly, incessantly.
Mr.Gerzson counted on his pulses the seconds which elapsed between each obscuration--sixteen seconds, consequently the room in which this person was to-and-froing it so late at night like a spectre, must be sixteen paces from one end to the other.

So long as the other windows had been lit up, this person had not begun to walk but as soon as the whole castle was slumbering its restless course began.
Gerzson felt that if he looked much longer, he would become moonstruck himself.
Slowly divesting himself of his _bunda_, and after knocking the burning ashes out of his pipe, he noiselessly quitted the bee-house, traversed the garden and sprang over the fence at a single bound.

Then he stole along in the shadow of the poplar avenue leading up to the castle till he stood beneath the moon-lit window, climbed, like a veritable lunatic on to the projecting stones of the old bastion, and gazed from thence, at closer quarters, at the regularly recurring shadow.
But not even now was he content, but began to break off little portions of the mouldering mortar and cautiously throw them at the window.

When one of these little fragments of mortar rattled against the glass the whole window was quickly obscured by a shadow as if the night wanderer had rushed to it in order to look out.

Gerzson felt absolutely certain that he must be observed for there he stood clinging fast on to the moulding.