The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Old Time English
General
The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Old Time English
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction; Ghost stories
All gathered round the dead form with the face concealed under the
Black Veil; all knelt, and all wept. Far in the distance, at the
foot of the blue mountains, a crowd of the savage natives had risen
up as if from the earth; they stood motionless leaning on their
clubs and spears, and looking toward the spot on which we were--
strangely thus brought into the landscape, as if they too, the wild
dwellers on the verge which Humanity guards from the Brute, were
among the mourners for the mysterious Child of mysterious Nature!
And still, in the herbage, hummed the small insects, and still,
from the cavern, laughed the great kingfisher. I said to Ayesha,
"Farewell! your love mourns the dead, mine calls me to the living.
You are now with your own people, they may console you--say if I
can assist."
"There is no consolation for me! What mourner can be consoled if
the dead die forever? Nothing for him is left but a grave; that
grave shall be in the land where the song of Ayesha first lulled
him to sleep. Thou assist ME--thou, the wise man of Europe! From
me ask assistance. What road wilt thou take to thy home?"
"There is but one road known to me through the maze of the
solitude--that which we took to this upland."
"On that road Death lurks, and awaits thee! Blind dupe, couldst
thou think that if the grand secret of life had been won, he whose
head rests on my lap would have yielded thee one petty drop of the
essence which had filched from his store of life but a moment? Me,
who so loved and so cherished him--me he would have doomed to the
pitiless cord of my servant, the Strangler, if my death could have
lengthened a hairbreadth the span of his being. But what matters
to me his crime or his madness? I loved him, I loved him!"
She bowed her veiled head lower and lower; perhaps under the veil
her lips kissed the lips of the dead. Then she said whisperingly:
"Juma the Strangler, whose word never failed to his master, whose
prey never slipped from his snare, waits thy step on the road to
thy home! But thy death cannot now profit the dead, the beloved.
And thou hast had pity for him who took but thine aid to design thy
destruction. His life is lost, thine is saved!"
She spoke no more in the tongue that I could interpret. She spoke,
in the language unknown, a few murmured words to her swarthy
attendants; then the armed men, still weeping, rose, and made a
dumb sign to me to go with them. I understood by the sign that
Ayesha had told them to guard me on my way; but she gave no reply
to my parting thanks.
XI
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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