Dariel: A Romance of SurreyBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
Dariel: A Romance of Surrey
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Surrey (England) -- Fiction
"Sit down in that corner, little chap," I said as graciously as if he
knew English. "And make yourself at home, while I get on with this."
Perhaps he was out of practice in the art of sitting down, for instead
of accepting the chair I offered, he clapped himself in some wonderful
manner upon a hassock. But it was impossible for me to attend to him
much, until I knew what he had brought.
Now there was nothing particularly foreign about this. It looked like an
ordinary English letter, except that the paper was not like ours, and
the envelope was secured with silk, as well as sealed. But the writing
was the daintiest that ever I did see; and I longed to get rid of that
"darkie" in the corner, whose eyes flashed at me from the gloomy floor.
And his hand was playing with his _kinjal_ all the time, for so they
call those deadly bits of steel, without which they never think their
attire complete. Being unaccustomed to be looked at so, I could not
enter into my fair letter as I wished; though that little fellow would
have flown up to the slates, before he could get near me with that
hateful snakish thing. And to tell the truth, I did him wrong by any
such suspicion; for there could never be a more loyal, honest, and
zealous retainer than Allai. "Here you are," I said, addressing him in
English, though well aware now that he was none the wiser; "here's a
drop of good beer for you, young man. You take a pull at that, while I
write my answer. Ah, you won't get such stuff as that in--well, I don't
know where you hail from; but all over the world I defy you to get
anything like it."
Allai gave a grunt which I took for acquiescence; and leaving him to
enjoy himself, I wrote a few lines and enclosed them in a cover. Then I
found a bit of sealing wax, and sealed it very carefully, and fixed it
in the cleft wand, and handed it to Allai.
"You go straight away, quick-sticks, with this, and don't you lose it,
or I'll break your neck. Why, I'm blest if the pagan has drunk a drop of
his beer! Can such a race ever be brought up to date? Why, he takes it
for virulent poison!"
The young savage had poured my good ale upon the floor, and was soaking
the point of his dagger in it. He had put the glass to his lips no
doubt, and arrived at the sage conclusion that here was swift death for
his enemies. However, he possessed some civilisation as to the meaning
of a broad crown-piece, which in the fervour of my joy I set before him.
To a rich man it would have been well worth the money, to see the glad
sparkle of those black eyes, and the grin upon those swarthy cheeks.
Suddenly with a deep salaam his slender form turned and was gone like a
shadow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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