Scheherazade: a London night's entertainmentWarden, Florence
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Scheherazade: a London night's entertainment
Warden, Florence
English fiction -- 19th century
The Colonel was right. To these two beings, whose hearts and minds
were still scarcely as convalescent as their bodies after the trials
of the preceding few months, the suggestion of this great change came
as the grant of a new bright life to them. Nouna, in particular, was
half crazy with delight, and seemed to recover in a moment all her
lost vivacity, as she babbled of palms and sunshine, palaces with
stately domes and graceful minarets, of elephants with rich trappings,
birds with bright plumage, and dark depths of jungle where the tiger
was known to lurk, and where every step was hedged with fascinating
peril. That night she scarcely slept, and next morning, when Lord
Florencecourt again made his appearance, accompanied this time by
Ella, he was quite bewildered by the change in his daughter’s looks.
Ella herself, although very quiet, was almost as much excited, as she
asked whether they were ready. George, with dull masculine
pertinacity, worried everybody by asking for details of the journey
for which they had so hastily prepared; but at last perceiving, by the
evasive answers he got, that some surprise was intended, he was in the
end content to hold his tongue, and to wait patiently till the proper
time should bring enlightenment. Arrangements had been made, they were
told, for the transport of their luggage, and they had nothing to do
but to start in the company of Ella and the Colonel. They set out on
foot, which was one astonishing thing, and they were taken in the
direction of the Hoe, which was another. It was a beautiful, bright
May morning. From the seat by the camera obscura they all stood for a
moment, looking down at the water, when suddenly Nouna burst forth
into a cry of admiration at the sight of a beautiful yacht which was
anchored half-way between the shore and Drake’s Island.
“When did it come?” she cried with much interest. “It wasn’t here
yesterday. What a beautiful little thing!”
“Little thing!” cried Lord Florencecourt, with untimely impetuosity.
“Why it’s 150 tons; big enough to go round the world in!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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