Graham's Magazine, Vol. XX, No. 1, January 1842Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XX, No. 1, January 1842
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
This recognition by the mob seemed to annoy the object of their clamor
beyond measure. He lifted his hand with an imperative motion, in a vain
effort to silence their noisy greeting; but when he saw that this was
mistaken for encouragement, and that his family name rang louder and
with more joyous acclamation above all the tumult, he bent his noble
head to the multitude with forced resignation, and strove more
resolutely to retreat from a scene, which from many causes, filled him
with anxiety and regret. More than once his high spirit was so chafed by
the notice which he had unwillingly obtained, that nothing but
compassion for the multitude seemed to prevent him giving a free rein to
the noble beast which shook his head, champed angrily his tightened bit,
and curveted with impatience among the mass of human beings that
scarcely gave his hoofs free play upon the pavement.
The two men whom we left near the young female, who was just returning
to animation, were interrupted in their discussion by these two sources
of renewed commotion which we have just related, and when the cry of “a
Warwick, a Warwick,” swept by, the last comer, who was still supporting
the lady, started to his feet, placed a hand over his eyes to shade them
from the sun, and looked earnestly over the sea of human heads rising
and falling and flowing by, like the motion of a forest when the wind
sweeps over it. All at once he uttered an exclamation of pleasure, and
rushing down the steps, forced his way to the young horseman who was now
almost opposite the place he had occupied. Pushing eagerly through the
crowd which surrounded the struggling charger, he seized him by the bit,
as the only means of attracting the rider’s attention in a scene where
his voice was exerted in vain; but so great was the tumult that even
this method proved ineffectual, and it was not till he had flung the
beast almost upon his haunches that he was recognized by the anxious
nobleman. The young man bent his head, for the eager face of his
retainer startled him, though the words he would have uttered were swept
away by the thousand fierce sounds that filled the air. At last, by the
aid of gesture and such broken words as reached his master’s ear, the
man made himself understood. The horseman started upright in his
stirrups, cast a keen look toward the spot pointed out by his attendant,
and, heedless of all former caution, plunged his spurs into the restless
charger, which reared and plunged with a violence that sent the people
back upon each other, and cleared a space of some yards about him.
Regardless of consequences, the nobleman scarcely gave his horse time to
recover himself, but urged him through the frightened crowd with an
impetuosity that sent a shower of sparks about his hoofs when they
struck upon the lower-most of the stone flags where the lady had taken
shelter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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