France -- History -- Louis XVI, 1774-1793 -- Fiction
Saladin, her horse, seemed in unusually fine fettle, and the distance
separating her from the land was soon covered; but still she continued
to follow the shore, swinging around and out toward a point some
distance seaward. Not until she had reached that extreme projection of
land, where the wooing green crept out from the forest as far as it
might, did she draw rein. Saladin stopped, albeit with protest,
tossing his great head.
"You might as well make an end of that, sir!" said the girl, and,
springing from the saddle, deftly secured him. Then turning her back
toward the Mount, a shadowy pyramid in the distance, she seated herself
in the grass with her eyes to the woods.
Not long, however, did my lady remain thus; soon rising, she walked
toward the shadowy depths. At the verge she paused; her brows grew
thoughtful; what was it the woods recalled? Suddenly, she
remembered--a boy she had met the night she left for school so long
ago, had told her he lived in them. She recalled, too, as a child, how
the woman, Marie, who had been maid to her mother, had tried to
frighten her about that sequestered domain, with tales of fierce wild
animals and unearthly creatures, visible and invisible, that roamed
within.
She had no fear now, though faint rustlings and a pulsation of sound
held her listening. Then, through the leafy interstice, a gleaming and
flashing, as if some one were throwing jewels to the earth, lured her
on to the cause of the seeming enchantment--a tiny waterfall!
The moment passed; still she lingered. Around the Mount's high top,
her own home, only transcendent silence reigned; here was she
surrounded by babbling voices and all manner of merry creatures--lively
little squirrels; winged insects, romping in the twilight shade; a
portly and well-satisfied appearing green monster who regarded her
amicably from a niche of green. A butterfly, poised and waving its
wings, held her a long time--until she was suddenly aroused by the wood
growing darker. Raising her eyes, she saw through the green foliage
overhead that the bright sky had become sunless. At the same time a
rumbling detonation, faint, far-off, broke in upon the whisperings and
tinklings of that wood nook. Getting up, she stood for a moment
listening; then walked away.
Near the verge of the sand, Saladin greeted her with impatience,
tossing his head toward the darkening heavens. Nor did he wait until
she was fairly seated before starting back at a rapid gait along the
shore. But the girl offered no protest; her face showed only
enjoyment. A little wild he might be at times, as became one of rugged
ancestry, but never vicious, only headstrong! And she didn't mind
that--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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