Anne of Geierstein; Or, The Maiden of the Mist. Volume 1 (of 2) — John Shaqi
Anne of Geierstein; Or, The Maiden of the Mist. Volume 1 (of 2)Scott, Walter
History
Anne of Geierstein; Or, The Maiden of the Mist. Volume 1 (of 2)
Scott, Walter
France -- History -- Louis XI, 1461-1483 -- Fiction
He attempted to do so, but, inexperienced in the art of making himself
heard in such a country, he pitched his voice in the same key with
that of the roar of wave and wind; so that, even at twenty yards from
the place where he was speaking, it must have been totally
indistinguishable from that of the elemental war around them. The lad
smiled at his patron's ineffectual attempts, and then raised his voice
himself in a high, wild, and prolonged scream, which, while produced
with apparently much less effort than that of the Englishman, was
nevertheless a distinct sound, separated from others by the key to
which it was pitched, and was probably audible to a very considerable
distance. It was presently answered by distant cries of the same
nature, which gradually approached the platform, bringing renovated
hope to the anxious traveller.
If the distress of the father rendered his condition an object of deep
compassion, that of the son, at the same moment, was sufficiently
perilous. We have already stated, that Arthur Philipson had commenced
his precarious journey along the precipice with all the coolness,
resolution, and unshaken determination of mind which was most
essential to a task where all must depend upon firmness of nerve. But
the formidable accident which checked his onward progress was of a
character so dreadful as made him feel all the bitterness of a death
instant, horrible, and, as it seemed, inevitable. The solid rock had
trembled and rent beneath his footsteps, and although, by an effort
rather mechanical than voluntary, he had withdrawn himself from the
instant ruin attending its descent, he felt as if the better part of
him, his firmness of mind and strength of body, had been rent away
with the descending rock, as it fell thundering, with clouds of dust
and smoke, into the torrents and whirlpools of the vexed gulf beneath.
In fact, the seaman swept from the deck of a wrecked vessel, drenched
in the waves, and battered against the rocks on the shore, does not
differ more from the same mariner, when, at the commencement of the
gale, he stood upon the deck of his favourite ship, proud of her
strength and his own dexterity, than Arthur, when commencing his
journey, from the same Arthur, while clinging to the decayed trunk of
an old tree, from which, suspended between heaven and earth, he saw
the fall of the crag which he had so nearly accompanied. The effects
of his terror, indeed, were physical as well as moral, for a thousand
colours played before his eyes; he was attacked by a sick dizziness,
and deprived at once of the obedience of those limbs which had
hitherto served him so admirably; his arms and hands, as if no longer
at his own command, now clung to the branches of the tree, with a
cramp-like tenacity over which he seemed to possess no power, and now
trembled in a state of such complete nervous relaxation as led him to
fear that they were becoming unable to support him longer in his
position.
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