Children's stories; Fairy tales; Fantasy literature
He was still reading, and Curdie was still seated in the brown twilight
of the vault, not listening, but pondering with himself how this king
the city marshal talked of could be the same with the majesty he had
seen ride away on his grand white horse, with the Princess Irene on a
cushion before him, when a scream of agonized terror arose on the
farthest skirt of the crowd, and, swifter than flood or flame, the
horror spread shrieking. In a moment the air was filled with hideous
howling, cries of unspeakable dismay, and the multitudinous noise of
running feet. The next moment, in at the door of the vault bounded Lina,
her two green eyes flaming yellow as sunflowers, and seeming to light up
the dungeon. With one spring she threw herself at Curdie's feet, and
laid her head upon them panting. Then came a rush of two or three
soldiers darkening the doorway, but it was only to lay hold of the key,
pull the door to, and lock it; so that once more Curdie and Lina were
prisoners together.
For a few moments Lina lay panting hard: it is breathless work leaping
and roaring both at once, and that in a way to scatter thousands of
people. Then she jumped up, and began snuffing about all over the place;
and Curdie saw what he had never seen before--two faint spots of light
cast from her eyes upon the ground, one on each side of her snuffing
nose. He got out his tinder-box--a miner is never without one--and
lighted a precious bit of candle he carried in a division of it--just
for a moment, for he must not waste it.
The light revealed a vault without any window or other opening than the
door. It was very old and much neglected. The mortar had vanished from
between the stones, and it was half filled with a heap of all sorts of
rubbish, beaten down in the middle, but looser at the sides; it sloped
from the door to the foot of the opposite wall: evidently for a long
time the vault had been left open, and every sort of refuse thrown into
it. A single minute served for the survey, so little was there to note.
Meantime, down in the angle between the back wall and the base of the
heap Lina was scratching furiously with all the eighteen great strong
claws of her mighty feet.
"Ah, ha!" said Curdie to himself, catching sight of her, "if only they
will leave us long enough to ourselves!"
With that he ran to the door, to see if there was any fastening on the
inside. There was none: in all its long history it never had had one.
But a few blows of the right sort, now from the one, now from the other
end of his mattock, were as good as any bolt, for they so ruined the
lock that no key could ever turn in it again. Those who heard them
fancied he was trying to get out, and laughed spitefully. As soon as he
had done, he extinguished his candle, and went down to Lina.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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