England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
On either side, as I advanced, the desolate old houses frowned on me.
There were no lights in the windows, no lamps in the streets. For a
quarter of an hour at least I penetrated deeper and deeper into the
city, without encountering a living creature on my way--with only the
starlight to guide me. Turning by chance into a street broader than
the rest, I at last saw a moving figure, just visible ahead, under the
shadows of the houses. I quickened my pace, and found myself following
a man in the dress of a peasant. Hearing my footsteps behind him, he
turned and looked at me. Discovering that I was a stranger, he lifted
a thick cudgel that he carried with him, shook it threateningly, and
called to me in his own language (as I gathered by his actions) to
stand back. A stranger in Enkhuizen at that time of night was evidently
reckoned as a robber in the estimation of this citizen! I had learned on
the voyage, from the captain of the boat, how to ask my way in Dutch,
if I happened to be by myself in a strange town; and I now repeated
my lesson, asking my way to the fishing office of Messrs. Van Brandt.
Either my foreign accent made me unintelligible, or the man's suspicions
disinclined him to trust me. Again he shook his cudgel, and again he
signed to me to stand back. It was useless to persist. I crossed to the
opposite side of the way, and soon afterward lost sight of him under the
portico of a house.
Still following the windings of the deserted streets, I reached what I
at first supposed to be the end of the town.
Before me, for half a mile or more (as well as I could guess), rose a
tract of meadow-land, with sheep dotted over it at intervals reposing
for the night. I advanced over the grass, and observed here and there,
where the ground rose a little, some moldering fragments of brickwork.
Looking onward as I reached the middle of the meadow, I perceived on
its further side, towering gaunt and black in the night, a lofty arch or
gateway, without walls at its sides, without a neighboring building
of any sort, far or near. This (as I afterward learned) was one of
the ancient gates of the city. The walls, crumbling to ruin, had been
destroyed as useless obstacles that cumbered the ground. On the waste
meadow-land round me had once stood the shops of the richest merchants,
the palaces of the proudest nobles of North Holland. I was actually
standing on what had been formerly the wealthy quarter of Enkhuizen! And
what was left of it now? A few mounds of broken bricks, a pasture-land
of sweet-smelling grass, and a little flock of sheep sleeping.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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