The Strand Magazine, Vol. 01, January 1891: An Illustrated MonthlyVarious
General
The Strand Magazine, Vol. 01, January 1891: An Illustrated Monthly
Various
English literature -- Periodicals; Short stories, English -- Periodicals
Rustem thanked Providence for having sent so good a bargain in his way.
"Topaz was all wrong," thought he, "to say that my journey would be
unlucky." He mounted the finest of the camels, and the others followed.
He soon rejoined his little caravan, and went on his way towards
happiness.
He had not marched more than four miles, when he was stopped by a
torrent, wide, deep, and impetuous, tumbling over rocks all white with
foam. On each shore rose precipitous cliffs which bewildered the eye and
chilled the heart of man. There was no way of getting across, of turning
to the right hand or to the left.
"I am beginning to fear," said Rustem, "that Topaz may have been right
to reprehend me for this journey, and I very wrong to undertake it. If
he were but here he might give me some good advice, and if I had Ebony,
he at any rate would comfort me, and suggest some expedient. As it is I
have no one left to help me."
His dismay was increased by that of his followers. The night was very
dark, and they spent it in lamentations. At last fatigue and dejection
brought sleep to the love-sick traveller. He awoke, however, at
daybreak, and saw a fine marble bridge built across the torrent from
shore to shore.
Then what exclamations, what cries of astonishment and delight. "Is it
possible? Is it a dream? What a marvel! It is magic! Dare we cross it?"
All the Mirza's train fell on their knees, got up again, went to the
bridge, kissed the ground, looked up to heaven, lifted their hands; then
tremulously set foot on it, went over, and came back in perfect ecstasy.
And Rustem said, "Heaven is on my side this time. Topaz did not know
what he was saying. The oracles were in my favour. Ebony was right; but
why is he not here?"
Hardly had the caravan crossed in safety, when the bridge fell into the
torrent with an appalling crash.
"So much the better!" cried Rustem. "God be praised! He does not intend
me to return to my own country, where I should be only a private
gentleman. He means me to marry the Princess. I shall be Prince of
Cashmere. In that way, when I possess my Princess, I shall not possess
my humble rank in Candahar; I shall be Rustem, and I shall not, since I
shall be a great prince. There is a great deal of the oracle interpreted
in my favour. The rest will be explained in the same way. I am too
happy! But why is not Ebony at my side? I regret him a thousand times
more than Topaz."
He rode a few miles further in great glee; but as evening fell, a chain
of mountains, steeper than a rampart, and higher than the Tower of Babel
would have been when finished, entirely closed the road against the
travellers, who were filled with fears.
Everyone exclaimed: "It is the will of God that we should perish here!
He has broken down the bridge that we may have no hope of returning; He
has raised up this mountain to hinder our going forward. Oh, Rustem! Oh,
hapless Mirza! We shall never see Cashmere, we shall never return to the
land of Candahar!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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