At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. . His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. He was the social order; he was law and wisdom. Hurrying in the direction of the supposed arrest, they encouraged each other with shouts, and threatened the offending parties with their vengeance. He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. For a moment he believed this merely a new phase of the dream. .
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