There was something in the sight that had a vague
terror for them before they clearly saw what this thing was which was
thus brought into their presence. Cecil moved slowly on into their
midst, his hand on the horse's rein; then a great darkness covered his
sight; he swayed to and fro, and fell senseless on the gray stone of the
paved court, while the muleteer and the camel-drivers, the Kabyls and
the French, who were mingled there, crowded around him in fear and in
wonder. When consciousness returned to him he was lying on a stone bench
in the shadow of the wall, and a throng of lean, bronzed, eager faces
about him in the midday sunlight which had broken through the windstorm.
Instantly he remembered all.
"Where is he?" he asked.
They knew he meant the dead man, and answered him in a hushed murmur of
many voices. They had placed the body gently down within, in a darkened
chamber.
A shiver passed over him; he stretched his hand out for water that they
held to him.
"Saddle me a fresh horse; I have my work to do."
He knew that for no friendship, or grief, or suffering, or self-pity
might a soldier pause by the wayside while his errand was still undone,
his duty unfulfilled.
He drank the water thirstily; then, reeling slightly still, from the
weakness that was still upon him, he rose, rejecting their offers of
aid. "Take me to him," he said simply. They understood him; there were
French soldiers among them, and they took him, without question or
comment, across the court to the little square stone cell within one of
the towers, where they had laid the corpse, with nothing to break the
quiet and the solitude except the low, soft cooing of some doves that
had their homes in its dark corners, and flew in and out at pleasure
through the oval aperture that served as window.
Pages:
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679