Coningsby; Or, The New GenerationDisraeli, Benjamin, Earl of Beaconsfield
General
Coningsby; Or, The New Generation
Disraeli, Benjamin, Earl of Beaconsfield
Great Britain -- Fiction; Political fiction; Politicians -- Fiction
‘I am a stranger in the halls of a stranger! Ah! whither shall I flee?
To the castle of my fathers in the green mountains; to the palace of my
fathers in the ancient city?
There is no flag on the castle of my fathers in the green mountains,
silent is the palace of my fathers in the ancient city.
Is there no home for the homeless? Can the unloved never find love?
Ah! thou fliest away, fleet cloud: he will leave us swifter than thee!
Alas! cutting wind, thy breath is not so cold as his heart!
I am a stranger in the halls of a stranger! Ah! whither shall I flee?’
The door of the music-room slowly opened. It was Sidonia. His hat was in
his hand; he was evidently on the point of departure.
‘Those sounds assured me,’ he said calmly but kindly, as he advanced,
‘that I might find you here, on which I scarcely counted at so early an
hour.’
‘You are going then?’ said the Princess.
‘My carriage is at the door; the Marquess has delayed me; I must be in
London to-night. I conclude more abruptly than I could have wished one
of the most agreeable visits I ever made; and I hope you will permit
me to express to you how much I am indebted to you for a society which
those should deem themselves fortunate who can more frequently enjoy.’
He held forth his hand; she extended hers, cold as marble, which he bent
over, but did not press to his lips.
‘Lord Monmouth talks of remaining here some time,’ he observed; ‘but I
suppose next year, if not this, we shall all meet in some city of the
earth?’
Lucretia bowed; and Sidonia, with a graceful reverence, withdrew.
The Princess Lucretia stood for some moments motionless; a sound
attracted her to the window; she perceived the equipage of Sidonia
whirling along the winding roads of the park. She watched it till it
disappeared; then quitting the window, she threw herself into a chair,
and buried her face in her shawl.
END OF BOOK IV.
BOOK V.
CHAPTER I.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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