yes , the drums , he heard the drums , the old familiar mardi gras cadence of marching drums , the sound of the comus parade moving swiftly through the winter dark on the tired dreary edge of mardi gras night , and the flicker of the flames was the flicker of the flambeaux beneath the twisted elbows of the oaks , and his fear was the all-knowing little boy 's fear of long ago , and it was all here , everything he 'd feared , happening at last , not a mere glimpse on the edge of dream , or with deirdre 's nightgown in his hands , but here , around him .