Fate held Max by the hand and was leading him.

I almost feared to move or to speak in his affairs, lest I should make a mistake and offend these capricious Fates.

The right or the wrong of his visits to the moat depended entirely upon the answer to my riddle, "Who is Yolanda ?" and I dared not put it to the touch.
On one occasion he returned from the bridge, and without lighting the lamp, sat on the arm of my chair.

The moonlight streaming through the window illumined his head as with a halo.

He tossed the damp curls from his face, and his eyes were aglow with joy.