French fiction -- Translations into English; Short stories
The moon rose as we started on our way. The sky was clear, but a light,
white mist had come up since sundown, and skimmed the ground, which
looked as though it were covered with down. On this white background,
the moon threw long shadows, and everything took on a fantastic air.
Very soon I thought I saw Arab mounted sentries. As I came nearer I
found they were tamarisks in flower. Presently I stopped short, for I
thought I heard the cannon-shot signal. Wagner told me it was the sound
of a horse galloping.
We reached the fort and the commandant made his preparations.
The place was very easy to defend, and our squadron would have been
sufficient to hold back a considerable force. Complete solitude reigned
on the other side of the river.
After a pretty long wait, we heard the gallop of a horse, and soon an
Arab came in sight mounted on a magnificent animal and riding towards
us. By his straw hat crowned with ostrich plumes, and by his embroidered
saddle from which hung a _gebira_ ornamented with coral and chased with
gold flowers, we recognised that he was a chief; our guide told us it
was Sidi-Lala himself. He was a fine-looking and well-built young man,
who managed his horse admirably. He put it at a gallop, threw his long
gun up in the air and caught it again, shouting at us unintelligible
terms of defiance.
The days of chivalry are over, and Wagner called for a gun to _take the
marabout down a peg_, as he called it; but I objected, yet, so that it
should not be said that the French refused to fight at close quarters
with an Arab, I asked the commandant for leave to go through the ford
and cross swords with Sidi-Lala. Permission was granted me, and I was
soon over the river where the enemy's chief was trotting a little way
off, and taking stock of things.
Directly he saw I was across he ran upon me and aimed with his gun.
"Take care!" cried Wagner.
I am rarely afraid of a horseman's shot, and, after the tricks he had
just played with it, I thought that Sidi-Lala's gun could not be in a
condition to fire. And in fact he pulled the trigger when he was only
three paces from me, but the gun missed fire, as I had expected. Soon he
turned his horse round so rapidly that instead of planting my sabre in
his breast I only caught his floating burnous.
But I pressed him close, keeping him always on my right and beating him
back, whether he was willing or not, towards the steep declivities which
edged the river. He tried in vain to turn aside, but I pressed him
closer and closer. After several moments of frantic effort, suddenly I
saw his horse rear and the rider drew rein with both hands. Without
stopping to ask myself why he made such a strange movement I was on him
like a shot, and I pierced him with my blade, right in the centre of
his back, my horse's hoof striking his left thigh at the same time. Man
and horse disappeared, and my mare and I fell after them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account