Devereux — Volume 06Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
History
Devereux — Volume 06
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Great Britain -- History -- Anne, 1702-1714 -- Fiction
It struck the first quarter after eleven: in less than an hour my enemy
would be either in my power or beyond its reach; still Gerald and our
allies came not; my suspense grew intolerable, my pulse raged with
fever; I could not stay for two seconds in the same spot; a hundred
times had I drawn my sword, and looked eagerly along its bright blade.
"Once," thought I, as I looked, "thou didst cross the blade of my mortal
foe, and to my danger rather than victory; years have brought skill to
the hand which then guided thee, and in the red path of battle thou hast
never waved in vain. Be stained but once more with human blood, and I
will prize every drop of that blood beyond all the triumphs thou hast
brought me!" Yes, it had been with a fiery and intense delight that I
had learned that Montreuil would have companions to his flight in
lawless and hardened men, who would never yield him a prisoner without
striking for his rescue; and I knew enough of the courageous and proud
temper of my purposed victim to feel assured that, priest as he was, he
would not hesitate to avail himself of the weapons of his confederates
or to aid them with his own. Then would it be lawful to oppose violence
to his resistance, and with my own hand to deal the death-blow of
retribution. Still as these thoughts flashed over me my heart grew
harder, and my blood rolled more burningly through my veins. "They come
not; Gerald returns not," I said, as my eye dwelt on the clock, and saw
the minutes creep one after the other: "it matters not; HE at least
shall not escape!--were he girt by a million, I would single him from
the herd; one stroke of this right hand is all that I ask of life, then
let them avenge him if they will." Thus resolved, and despairing at
last of the return of Gerald, I left the tower, locked the outer door,
as a still further security against my prisoner's escape, and repaired
with silent but swift strides to the beach by the Castle Cave. It
wanted about half an hour to midnight: the night was still and
breathless; a dim mist spread from sea to sky, through which the stars
gleamed forth heavily, and at distant intervals. The moon was abroad,
but the vapours that surrounded her gave a watery and sicklied dulness
to her light, and whereever in the niches and hollows of the cliff the
shadows fell, all was utterly dark and unbroken by the smallest ray;
only along the near waves of the sea and the whiter parts of the level
sand were objects easily discernible. I strode to and fro for a few
minutes before the Castle Cave; I saw no one, and I seated myself in
stern vigilance upon a stone, in a worn recess of the rock, and close by
the mouth of the Castle Cave. The spot where I sat was wrapped in total
darkness, and I felt assured that I might wait my own time for
disclosing myself. I had not been many minutes at my place of watch
before I saw the figure of a man approach from the left; he moved with
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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