Prev | Current Page 820 | Next

Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"The Garden of Allah"


"'It is for Monsieur!' he said. 'It was left at the gate.'
"'A letter for me!' the stranger said.
"He held out his hand and took it indifferently. The boy gave it, and
turning, went away through the wood. Then the stranger glanced at the
envelope. Domini, I wish I could make you see what I saw then, the
change that came. I can't. There are things the eyes must see. The
tongue can't tell them. The ghastly whiteness went out of his face. A
hot flood of scarlet rushed over it up to the roots of his hair. His
hands and his whole body began to tremble violently. His eyes, which
were fixed on the envelope, shone with an expression--it was like all
the excitement in the world condensed into two sparks. He dropped his
stick and sat down on the trunk of a tree, fell down almost.
"'Father!' he muttered, 'it's not been through the post--it's not been
through the post!'
"I did not understand.
"'What do you mean?' I asked.
"'What----'
"The flush left his face. He turned deadly white again. He held out the
letter.
"'Read it for me!' he said. 'I can't see--I can't see anything.'
"I took the letter.


Pages:
808 809 810 811 812 813 814 815 816 817 818 819 820 821 822 823 824 825 826 827 828 829 830 831 832