Portugal -- History -- Joseph, 1750-1777 -- Fiction
Though there were doubtless many more important personages who figured
at that period, we must not lose sight of our friend Don Luis. It was
nearly dark when he issued from the portals of the Jesuits' College,
and, the distance to his own residence being considerable, night had
completely set in by the time he reached the lower part of the city,
when it occurred to him that it would have been more prudent to have
ordered Pedro to attend him. But his mind was too much engrossed by the
conversation he had held with Father da Costa, to think much of the
danger he ran; and as one strong poison will often prove an antidote to
another, so had the new ideas opened to his view banished for a time the
recollection of his own griefs and disappointments. He hurried on as
fast as the badness of the way would permit, through streets extremely
narrow; the houses being lofty, with many stories, their fronts adorned
with various figures carved in stone, and the upper floors projecting
beyond the lower, little light was afforded to the passenger, from the
sky, even when clear and spangled with stars, as it was at the present
time. He had already reached the street leading to that in which his
father's house was situated, without meeting any interruption, when,
having just passed a shrine dedicated to Saint Anthony placed at a
corner house, a small lamp burning in front of it, shedding forth its
pale light, like a sad epitome of the glorious illumination that pious
man spread among his much loved Lusitanians, his eyes, now directed on
the ground, to pick his way clear of the immundicities which strewed the
way, and now in front, in a vain endeavour to pierce the gloom, he
fancied that he saw on the white stone wall of a house close to him,
which the rays of the lamp reached, the shadow of a man, with arm
uplifted, in the attitude of one about to strike. His nerves were
fortunately well strung, his courage undaunted, and his frame well knit
and active to obey his will; but not a moment was there for thought, and
as the threatening apparition caught his eye, quick as lightning he
sprang round, ere a dagger, gleaming brightly, had time to descend, and,
seizing the hand which grasped it, wrenched the weapon from the power of
the cloaked assassin, who stood behind, and dealing him a heavy blow on
the face with the handle, laid him prostrate on the ground. The ruffian
was, however, not without support; for, at the same moment, a man sprang
across the street with dagger in hand, ready to avenge his comrade. But
Don Luis was not to be taken thus at advantage; for, retreating a step,
his own sword was prepared to receive the wretch on its point. The
latter, however, throwing himself back in time, fled a few paces, and
gave a shrill whistle, which was answered at several points, and three
men rushed forward with threatening attitudes and unsheathed weapons.
Don Luis was fortunate in his ground, having a wall with a projecting
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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