Scheherazade: a London night's entertainmentWarden, Florence
General
Scheherazade: a London night's entertainment
Warden, Florence
English fiction -- 19th century
The next moment the train had started, and George, overcome by the
rush of feelings evoked by the thought that the man whom he hated was
so near to him, sank down into his corner seat in the wet white heat
which strong excitement causes to the bodily weak. He hoped that
Rahas, if indeed it was he whom Ella had seen, had not caught sight of
him; in that case George was sure that he had only to follow the wily
Arabian to be taken straight to the house where Nouna was. The journey
seemed endless; he fell from time to time into fits of stupor, in
which he heard the tramp of the warder through the rattle of the
train, and Nouna calling to him in hoarse, broken accents unlike her
own, and a rasping voice shrieking out to the beat of the wheels:
“Never to meet! Never to meet!” With a start he would find that
prison-walls and darkness had melted back into the cushioned carriage
and the light of day, and remember in a vague, half-incredulous way
that he was on his way to Nouna. Then the train would stop at a
station, and he would look out eagerly, furtively, scanning the
passengers who got out, searching for the man he wanted. At last, at
Salisbury, where the train waited a quarter of an hour, his anxiety
was set at rest. Wrapped in a long overcoat, and wearing a
travelling-cap pulled low over his eyes, Rahas descended to the
platform, walked two or three times up and down with his eyes on the
ground as if in deep thought, and got in again without having given
one glance at any of the other compartments. George had felt pretty
safe from recognition, as he was much altered by illness and the loss
of his moustache, and as, moreover, he was believed to be still a
prisoner in France. Now he was altogether sure that Rahas was off his
guard, and the knowledge gave him confidence. When, therefore, the
Oriental merchant left the train at a little station a few miles from
Plymouth, George only allowed him time to get through the door before
he jumped out after him, and turning up his coat-collar, as the
coolness of the evening gave him an excuse for doing, gave up his
ticket and followed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account