McClure's Magazine, Vol. 6, No. 3, February 1896Various
History
McClure's Magazine, Vol. 6, No. 3, February 1896
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Literature -- Periodicals
But the officer's horse was going so furiously that he could not stop
it for hard on forty yards, and he narrowly escaped splitting his head
against a great bough that hung low across the grassy path; and
he dropped first his own sword and then the king's; but at last he
brought the horse to a standstill, and, leaping down, ran back towards
where the swords lay. But at the moment the king also ran towards
them; for the fury that he had been in before was as nothing to that
which now possessed him. After his sword was snatched from him he
stood in speechless anger for a full minute, but then had turned to
pursue the man who had dared to treat him with such insult. And
now, in his desire to be at the officer, he had come very near to
forgetting the student. Just as the officer came to where the king's
sword lay, and picked it up, the king, in his turn, reached the
officer's sword and picked up that. The king came with a rush at the
officer, who, seeing that the king was likely to kill him, or he the
king, if he stood his ground, turned tail and sped away at the top of
his speed through the forest. But as he went, thinking that the time
had come for plain speaking, he looked back over his shoulder and
shouted:
"Sire, it's the Grand Duke himself!"
The king stopped short in sudden amazement.
"Is the man mad?" he asked. "Who is the Grand Duke?"
"It's the Grand Duke, sir, who is with the princess. And you would
have killed him if I had not snatched your sword," said the officer;
and he also came to a halt, but he kept a very wary eye on King
Rudolf.
"I should certainly have killed him, let him be who he will," said the
king. "But why do you call him the Grand Duke?"
The officer very cautiously approached the king, and, seeing that the
king made no threatening motion, he at last trusted himself so close
that he could speak to the king in a very low voice; and what he
said seemed to astonish, please, and amuse the king immensely. For he
clapped the officer on the back, laughed heartily, and cried:
"A pretty trick! On my life, a pretty trick!"
Now Osra and her lover had not heard what the officer had shouted to
the king, and when Osra saw her brother returning from among the trees
alone and with his sword, she still supposed that her lover must die;
and she turned and flung her arms round his neck, and clung to him for
a moment, kissing him. Then she faced the king, with a smile on her
face and the little dagger in her hand. But the king came up, wearing
a scornful smile, and he asked her:
"What is the dagger for, my wilful sister?"
"For me, if you kill him," said she.
"You would kill yourself, then, if I killed him?"
"I would not live a moment after he was dead."
"Faith, it is wonderful!" said the king with a shrug. "Then plainly,
if you cannot live without him, you must live with him. He is to be
your husband, not mine. Therefore, take him, if you will."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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