|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 52
He alighted in the ice-cold stream, handing me his bridle. I caught in
the silence the click of the lock of his gun, and that slight noise threw
me into a tremor of apprehension.
"Sperver, what are you about?"
"Don't be alarmed; it is only to frighten her."
"Very well, then, but no blood. Remember what I told you--the ball which
strikes the Pest slays the count!"
"Don't trouble yourself," was the answer.
He went away without further parley. I could hear the splash of his feet
in the water; then I saw his tall figure emerge at the opening of the
dark glen, black against a purple background. He stood five minutes
motionless. Attentive, bending forward, I looked and listened, still
moving onward. As he returned I was but a few yards from him.
"Hark!" he whispered mysteriously. "Look there!"
At the end of the hollow, scooped out perpendicularly like a quarry in
the mountain side, I saw a bright fire unrolling its golden spires
beneath the vault of a cave, and before the fire sat a man with his hands
clasped about his knees, whom I recognised by his dress as the Baron de
Zimmer-Bluderich.
He sat motionless, his forehead resting between his hands. Behind him lay
a dark gaunt form extended on the ground. Farther on, his horse, half
lost in the shade, reared his neck, gazed on us with eyes fixed, ears
erect, and nostrils distended.
I stood rooted to the ground.
How did the Baron de Zimmer happen to be in that lonely wilderness at
such a time? What did he want here? Had he lost his way?
The most contradictory conjectures were passing in confusion through my
excited brain, and I could not tell what conclusion to arrive at, when
the baron's horse began to neigh, and the master raised his head.
"Well, Donner, what is the matter now?" said he.
Then he, too, directed his gaze our way, straining his eyes through the
darkness.
That pale face, with its strongly-marked features, thin lips, and thick
black eyebrows meeting together, and forming a deep hollow on the brow in
the form of a long vertical wrinkle, would have struck me with admiration
at any other time; while now an inexplicable anxiety laid hold of me, and
I was filled with vague apprehensions.
Suddenly the young man exclaimed--
"Who goes there?"
"I, monseigneur," answered Sperver, coming forward--"Sperver, chief
huntsman to the lord of Nideck."
A flash shot from the baron's quick eye; not a muscle of his countenance
quailed. He rose to his feet, gathering his pelisse over his shoulders. I
drew towards me the horses and the dog, and this animal suddenly began
howling fearfully.
Is not every one, more or less, subject to superstitious fears? At these
dismal sounds I trembled, and a cold shudder crept through my whole body.
Sperver and the baron stood at a distance of fifty yards from each other;
the first immovable in the midst of the deep glen, his gun unslung from
his shoulder, the other erect upon the level platform outside of the
cave, carrying his head high, fixing on us a haughty eye and a proud look
of superiority.
"What do you want here?" he asked aggressively.
"We are looking for a woman," replied the old poacher--"a woman who comes
every year prowling about Nideck, and our orders are to take her."
"Has she stolen anything?"
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|