So also the dwellers of the Blue Alsatian Mountains remember his coming among them; while, if my memory serves me truly, he likewise visited the Banks of Allan Water.

A veritable Wandering Jew is he; for still the foolish girls listen, so they say, to the dying away of his hoof-beats.
In this land of many ruins, that long while ago were voice-filled homes, linger many legends; and here again, giving you the essentials, I leave you to cook the dish for yourself.

Take a human heart or two, assorted; a bundle of human passions--there are not many of them, half a dozen at the most; season with a mixture of good and evil; flavour the whole with the sauce of death, and serve up where and when you will.

"The Saint's Cell," "The Haunted Keep," "The Dungeon Grave," "The Lover's Leap"-- call it what you will, the stew's the same.
Lastly, in this book there will be no scenery.

This is not laziness on my part; it is self-control.