"In, in, my lad!" he urged with rough kindliness,--"Thou hast a face
fairer than that of the King's own minstrel, and why wouldst thou die
for sake of an extra cup of wine? If Lysia is to blame for this
scattering of thy wits, take heed thou do not venture near her more--it
is ill jesting with the Serpent's sting! Get thee hence quickly, and be
glad of thy life,--thou hast many years before thee yet in which to
play the lover and fool!"
With this enigmatical speech he signed to his men to follow him,--they
all filed through the gates, which closed after them with a jarring
clang, ... a dark bearded face peered out of a narrow loophole in one
of the watch-towers, and a deep voice called:
"What of the hour?"
The officer raised his gauntleted hand, and answered promptly:
"Peace and safety!"
"Salutation!" cried the voice again.
"Salutation!" responded the officer, and with a reassuring nod and
smile to the bewildered Alwyn, he gathered his little band around him,
and they all marched off, the measured clink-clank of their footsteps
making metallic music, as they wheeled round a corner and disappeared
from sight.
Left to himself Alwyn's first idea was to sit down in some quiet
corner, and endeavor calmly to realize what strange and cruel thing had
chanced to him. But happening to look up, he saw the bearded face in
the watchtower observing him suspiciously,--he therefore roused himself
sufficiently to walk away, on and on, scarce heeding whither he went,
till he had completely lost sight of those great gold-glittering
portals which had shut him, against his will, within the walls of a
large, splendid, and populous City. Yes! ... hopelessly perplexing and
maddening as it was, there could be no doubt of this fact,--and though
he again and again tried to convince himself that he was laboring under
some wild and exceptional hallucination, his senses all gave evidence
of the actual reality of his situation,--he felt, he moved, he heard,
he saw, ... he was even beginning to be conscious of hunger, thirst,
and fatigue.
The further he went, the more gorgeous grew the surroundings, . . his
unguided steps wandered as it seemed, of their own accord, into wide
streets, paved entirely with mosaics, and lined on both sides with
lofty, picturesque, and palace-like buildings,--he crossed and
recrossed broad avenues, shaded by tall feathery palms, and masses of
graceful flowering foliage,--he passed rows upon rows of brilliant
shops, whose frontages glittered with the most costly and beautiful
wares of every description,--and as he strolled about aimlessly,
uncertain whither to go, he was constantly jostled by the pressing
throngs of people that crowded the thoroughfares, all more or less
apparently bent on pleasure, to judge from their animated countenances
and frequent bursts of gay laughter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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