He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. Too easily roused emotions and too little passion. “My Mom never gets a good night’s sleep. As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder. A few seasons went by where he initiated her into the disgusting rituals of killing and eating human beings, a dark time where she pined for a rescuer who never arrived.
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