In the first place ... WHO WAS HE? Part of the required answer came
readily,--THEOS. Theos what? His brain refused to clear up this
point,--it repeated THEOS--THEOS,--over and over again, but no more!
Shuddering with a vague dread, he asked himself the next question, ...
FROM WHENCE HAD HE COME? The reply was direct and decisive--FROM ARDATH.
But what was ARDATH? It was neither a country nor a city--it was a
"waste field," where he had seen.... ah! WHOM had he seen? He
struggled furiously with himself for some response to this, ... none
came! Total dumb blankness was the sole result of the inward rack to
which he subjected his thoughts!
And where had he been before he ever saw Ardath? ... had he NO
recollection of any other place, any other surroundings?--ABSOLUTELY
NONE!--torture his wits as he would,--ABSOLUTELY NONE! ... This was
frightful ... incredible! ... Surely, surely, he mused piteously, there
must have been something in his life before the name of "Ardath" had
swamped his intelligence! ...
He lifted his head, ... his face had grown ashen gray and rigid in the
deep extremity of his speechless trouble and terror,--there was a sick
faintness at his heart, and rising, he moved unsteadily to one of the
great fountains, and there dipping his hands in the spray, he dashed
some drops on his brow and eyes. Then, making a cup of the hollowed
palms, he drank thirstily several draughts of the cool, sweet
water,--it seemed to allay the fever in his blood....
He looked around him with a wild, vague smile,--Al-Kyris! ... of
course! ... he was in Al-Kyris!--why was he so distressed about it? It
was a pleasant city,--there was much to see,--and also much to learn!
... At that instant a loud blast of silver-toned trumpets split the
air, followed by a storm-roar of distant acclamation surging up from
thousands of throats,--crowds of men and women suddenly flocked into
the Square, across it, and out of it again, all pressing impetuously in
one direction,--and urged forward by the general rush as well as by a
corresponding impulse within himself, he flung all meditation to the
winds, and plunged recklessly into the shouting, onsweeping throng. He
was borne swiftly with it down a broad avenue lined with grand old
trees and decked with flying flags and streamers, to the margin of a
noble river, as still as liquid amber in the wide sheen and heat of the
noonday sun. A splendid marble embankment, adorned with colossal
statues, girdled it on both sides,--and here, under silken awnings of
every color, pattern and design, an enormous multitude was
assembled,--its white attired, closely packed ranks stretching far away
into the blue distance on either hand.
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