The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 5, May, 1864: Devoted To Literature And National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 5, May, 1864: Devoted To Literature And National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
The bridegroom bows his head under the unendurable weight of this
question. He shudders, and with lifted hand tries to turn the old man
back.
'Ha! thou darest not speak--thou art silent, I know it all now. God
punishes me because I have bowed to thy king, and sought alliance with
thy craven blood, alien as thou art!'
The window panes rattle as the wild cry echoes from the old man's
quivering lips; all present tremble at the voice of his despair. He
seizes his sword with both his hands, and while it trembles in his
grasp, continues:
'Art thou still silent? My fathers were the enemies of thine; had I a
son, he would have been thy deadly foe. I had an only daughter--I gave
her to thee--she too is gone--take all--there is no one to care for
now--the inheritance is also thine.'
The sword rattles in his hands, the blade falls from his grasp, as he
strikes it against the pillar near him. The bridegroom starts forward
and endeavors to stay the old man. The old man pushes him off, they
wrestle in their bewilderment, and struggle like wild beasts. Despair
nerves the aged arms with iron strength. Young and agile as he is, the
bridegroom feels the hands of his adversary pressing heavily upon his
shoulders, he bends under the weight, the old man hurls him to the
ground, and, no longer requiring aid from others, strides over the
prostrate body. He stalks on with flashing, burning eyes, his gigantic
shadow striding with him on the wall, his wide robes floating on the
wind, his white hair streaming, his form winged with the courage of
despair. The retainers follow, the vaulted ceilings echoing back the
sharp gride of their footsteps. Only one lighted saloon now lies between
them and the chamber of the ladies of the castle. The double door at the
other end is thrown wide open, the walls and windows of the wedding
chamber are crimsoning with the early hues of day, silence and solitude
pervade them, nothing falls upon the air save the twitter of the birds
and the murmur of the fountains. The old man rushes on directly to the
open door and toward the reddening east.
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