He strained his eyes and then he saw a dark shadow moving among the bushes, but even then he could only distinguish it because his eyes were rendered keener by following the direction pointed out by his ears.
Was it Vranic, he asked himself.
Aye, surely; who else could it be but Vranic?
Still, what was he afraid of? No human eye could see him, no ear detect his steps.
Are we not all afraid of the crime we are about to commit? There is in felony a ghastly shadow that either precedes or follows us. It frightens even the most fearless man.
Slowly the shadow emerged from within the darkness of the bushes and came up towards the house. It was Vranic's figure, his shuffling gait.
Radonic's breast was like unto a glowing furnace, the blood within his heart was bubbling like molten metal within a crucible.
In a moment, that man—who was coming to seduce his wife and dishonour him—would be within his clutches.
Then he would break every bone within his body. He seemed to hear the shivering they made as he shattered them into splinters, and he shuddered.
For a moment, the atrocity of the crime he was about to commit, daunted him.