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For Love of a Bedouin Maid. Le Voleur
Читать онлайн.Название For Love of a Bedouin Maid
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Автор произведения Le Voleur
Жанр История
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"At first sight, it appeared to be a rock about two feet square and nine inches deep, buried partially in the soil; but, on examining it more closely, I found the cause of his excitement. The piece that he had broken off disclosed an iron corner.
"'There is something underneath,' said Phelps; 'the rock is only a deposit upon it.'
"An examination of the exposed portion proved the correctness of his remark.
"'I am going to get that out, whatever it is, if I work till dark,' he continued.
"At first I laughed at his enthusiasm, but it ended in my helping him. Armed with a fragment of rock as heavy as a blacksmith's sledge-hammer, I poised it above my head and, bidding Phelps stand away in case he should be struck by any fragments, I brought it down with all my might, upon the top of the rock. My improvised hammer split into bits with the force of the blow, but it cracked the rocky deposit sufficiently to enable us with a little trouble to remove it in pieces; and this is what was underneath."
Lord Throgmorten interrupted his narration to rise from his seat and withdraw the cover from the top of the box which stood upon the table in front of him. It was made of some dark wood, probably oak, heavily bound with iron at the corners and edges, the ironwork being of an ornamental character, but now almost covered with marine incrustation.
After examining the box from the outside, the editor asked his lordship to resume his narrative.
Lord Throgmorten went on. "Having got thus far in our exhumation of the box, the question was what next to do. Our first thought was to break the box to pieces and carry its contents to the boat, but here a doubt of what the box might hold prevented us. Phelps surmised that it was treasure.
"Our utmost efforts to move it proving useless we went back to the boat and told them to row to the yacht and get from the ship's carpenter tools for the purpose. In about half an hour they returned, bringing the carpenter with them. With his assistance, the box was raised from its rocky bed and conveyed to the yacht and placed in my cabin. On our return, the skipper told us that, so far as could be ascertained, we had sustained no damage; further, that his observation at noon had shown him that he had only an error of four miles to correct in the position he had marked upon the chart. This was satisfactory; so, there being nothing to detain us, we told him to get under weigh at once, and went down to luncheon. When we returned to the deck, the island appeared a mere speck, and, shortly after, the breeze being much in our favor, that too vanished below the horizon.
"Later in the afternoon, we opened the box, and in it we found these papers." Suiting his action to his words, Lord Throgmorten lifted the lid of the box and drew therefrom some manuscript, and handed it to the editor. That gentleman took the papers; then, putting his eyeglass to his right eye, looked inquiringly at his host and said, "Pray why do you hand these to me?"
"During our voyage home," replied Lord Throgmorten, "Phelps and myself amused ourselves with examining the papers. We found in them a story so interesting that we thought it ought to be placed before the world. This we ask you to do."
"Before I can give you a reply, I must of course, take the MS. home and examine it."
To this both the gentlemen agreed; and, shortly afterwards, they separated.
What followed is best told in the two accompanying letters, which passed between Lord Throgmorten and the editor, in the early part of the present year; by his lordship's kind permission, they are here transcribed.
Dear Algie,
I am now able to inform you that I have completed the task of compiling a story from the Manuscript which came into your possession in so extraordinary a manner. The events narrated in the MS. are highly interesting, as you remarked when you put the papers into my hands. In forwarding you the result of my labors, I leave you to apportion the merits and demerits between myself and the mysterious person who has vanished into the unknown whence the Manuscript also so marvelously came.
My dear Editor,
Many thanks for your letter and the accompanying parcel of MS. which came to hand by the mail quite safely last week. Both Phelps and myself render you our hearty thanks for the way in which you have performed your task, and trust that we shall be in England in time to witness the result. I shall, therefore, omit all news till we meet—except this. It will interest you to know that, on our voyage out here, we went out of our course, that we might revisit the unknown island from which we obtained the box with the MS. To our surprise, not a trace of it was to be discovered, though a reference to last year's log-book and a careful noting of our position told us that one day, at about 9:30 a.m., we passed within a quarter of a mile of where it had stood. Not a vestige of land could be seen, though a sharp look-out was kept throughout the search. When and how the island vanished is but a matter of conjecture; it is certain that it no longer exists, and, probably, has returned to the depths whence it came. Again renewing my thanks,
1ST EPOCH
GENERAL BUONAPARTE
CHAPTER I
The march of civilization has been so rapid that most people know something of the City of Paris.
It is not, however, with the modern city that this story will deal; not with the gay, ever moving throng of boulevardiers that crowd its thoroughfares at night under the glare of electric light, the welcome product of this ever inventive and luxurious nineteenth century; but with Paris at the close of the eighteenth century; Paris before the era of Baron Hausemann, ill-lighted, ill-paved and, at this moment, noiseless and, for the most part, asleep. For it was the night of December 6th, 1797. The rain was falling fast, dripping almost in sheets from the roofs of the houses that overhung the narrow, tortuous streets, now deep in mud. At long intervals, where they had not been extinguished by the wind, a few oil lamps were suspended from chains, the fitful light they gave serving only to render visible the gloom.
An unpleasant night to be abroad; so thought two foot passengers who were standing under one of the afore mentioned lamps opposite to the Palais de Luxembourg, at that time the residence of the Directors of the French Republic.
"Pest on it, the night grows worse and worse," said the shorter of the two, drawing his long cloak more closely round him and pulling his slouch hat further over his eyes, to prevent the driving rain, that the wind hurled along, from dashing into his face.
"It does indeed, Vipont," replied the taller and older man; "only the importance of our errand would have made me stir forth to-night. Half past ten, as I live," looking at his watch. "Come, let us be moving; see, someone is approaching the Palace gate."
A lantern flickered at the moment in the court-yard of the Palace, its light gradually growing brighter.
"The Officer of the Guard, most likely, going his rounds," remarked Vipont, following his companion, who, without heeding the remark, was already splashing across the space that intervened between them and the light.
Just when they arrived at the Palace gate, the officer reached the street.
Then one of the sentries at the gate pushed the new-comers aside, saying, the while he presented his bayonet at their chests, "Pass on, good folk, you cannot enter here. Pass on, whoever you may be."
Seeing that they paid no heed to his injunction, the man was about to enforce it, when the officer came up and asked their business.
"To see Mons. Barras, the President of the Directory," was the reply.
The officer, a tall, good-looking young man with coal-black hair and eyes, laughed somewhat contemptuously. "It is impossible," he said. "You cannot be admitted at this hour. Come to the Levee to-morrow."
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