A Modern Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Adventures of Oliver Munier: An Extravaganza in Four ActsPyle, Howard
History
A Modern Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Adventures of Oliver Munier: An Extravaganza in Four Acts
Pyle, Howard
Alchemists -- Fiction; France -- History -- Louis XV, 1715-1774 -- Fiction; Saint-Germain, comte de, -1784 -- Fiction
Oliver's only chance was to follow after; accordingly he dropped upon
his knees and felt within. For a foot or more the bottom of the space
ran upon a line of the floor, then it dropped suddenly and sheerly as
the wall of a house. How far it was to the bottom Oliver had no means
of knowing. He reached down at arm's-length, but could not touch it.
He crawled out of the hole again, and then reversing himself, went in
feet foremost. He dropped his legs over the edge of the open space, but
still he felt nothing. Upon either side he could touch the sides of the
passage with his toes; below, they touched nothing. He dropped himself
lower, but still felt nothing. Lower still, and still felt nothing. He
let himself go to his arm's-length, and hung there flat against the
wall, and felt about with his feet, but still they touched nothing.
How far was it to the bottom of that black passage? If he let go
his hold, would he be dashed to pieces below? A great wave of fright
swept over him, and he struggled vehemently to raise himself up to the
edge of the hole again whence he had descended, but he was helpless,
powerless. In his frantic struggles his feet clashed against the sides
of the passage-way, but he could nowhere gain purchase to raise himself
so much as a foot.
His struggles grew fainter and fainter, and at last he hung helplessly
clinging to the edge of the hole above him with cramped and nervous
fingers. A red light seemed to dance before his eyes, and he felt his
strength crumbling away from him like undermined earth. He breathed a
short prayer, loosed his hold--and fell about six inches to the bottom
of the shaft beneath.
He crouched there for a while, weak and trembling in the reaction from
his terror. At last he heaved a great sigh and wiped the beads of sweat
from his forehead with his sleeve. Then, rousing himself and feeling
about him, he found that the passage-way continued at right angles with
the bottom of the shaft. It seemed to Oliver that he could distinguish
a faint gray light in the gloom with which he was enveloped. Nor was he
mistaken, for, crawling slowly and painfully forward, he found that the
light grew brighter and brighter.
Presently the passage took an upward turn, and by-and-by became so
steep that Oliver could hardly struggle forward. At last it again
became level and easy to traverse; and still the light grew brighter
and brighter.
Suddenly the passage-way became horizontal again, and Oliver stopped
in his forward scrambling, and, sitting helplessly down, began crying;
for there in front of him, a few yards distant, the gray light of the
fading evening shone in at a square window-like hole, and into it swept
the sweet fresh open air, fragrant as violets after the close, dank
smell of the rooms he had left.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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