Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 16
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Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 16
Literature -- Collections
It was now near midnight that I came to knock at my door;
all was still and silent; my heart dilated with unutterable happiness;
when to my amazement I saw the house bursting out in a
blaze of fire, and every aperture red with conflagration! I gave
a loud convulsive outcry, and fell upon the pavement insensible.
This alarmed my son, who had till this been asleep, and he perceiving
the flames instantly waked my wife and daughter, and all
running out naked and wild with apprehension, recalled me to
life with their anguish. But it was only to objects of new terror;
for the flames had by this time caught the roof of our dwelling,
part after part continuing to fall in, while the family stood with
silent agony looking on, as if they enjoyed the blaze. I gazed
upon them and upon it by turns, and then looked round me for
my two little ones: but they were not to be seen. Oh misery!
"Where," cried I, "where are my little ones?" "They are burnt
to death in the flames," said my wife calmly, "and I will die
with them." That moment I heard the cry of the babes within,
who were just awaked by the fire; and nothing could have
stopped me. "Where, where are my children?" cried I, rushing
through the flames, and bursting the door of the chamber in
which they were confined; "where are my little ones?" "Here,
dear papa, here we are," cried they together, while the flames
were just catching the bed where they lay. I caught them
both in my arms, and snatched them through the fire as fast as
[Pg 6519]
possible, while just as I was got out, the roof sunk in. "Now,"
cried I, holding up my children, "now let the flames burn on,
and all my possessions perish. Here they are; I have saved my
treasure. Here, my dearest, here are our treasures, and we
shall yet be happy." We kissed our little darlings a thousand
times, they clasped us round the neck and seemed to share our
transports, while their mother laughed and wept by turns.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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