At times I came near to pitying him.
He had loved Kit in his masterful way, the way of one not wont to be thwarted, and he had lost her--lost her, whatever might happen.

He would get nothing after all by his revenge.

Nothing but ashes in the mouth.

And so I saw in softer moments something inexpressibly melancholy in that solitary giant-figure pacing always alone.
He seldom spoke to us.

More rarely to Louis.