Seul au Monde
Another death from Under Two Flags -- this time, the trusty servant of our hero. The two had set out on a perilous mission through the desert, knowing their path was filled with fierce Arab warriors who would kill in an instant the two lone Chasseurs d'Afrique. And, in the midst of a fierce storm, they were attacked. Bertie Cecil's best friend and servant was dealt the mortal blow, leaving Bertie cut off from even the last remnant of the life he had been forced to flee in shame:
There was a long silence, a pause in which the wind-storm ceased and the clouds of the loosed sands sunk. Alone, with the wastes stretching around them, were the living and the dying man, with the horse standing motionless beside them, and, above, the gloom of the sullen sky. No aid was possible: they could but wait, in the stupefication of despair, for the end of all to come.
In that awful stillness, in that sudden lull in the madness of the hurricane, death had a horror which it never wore in the riot of the battlefield, in the intoxication of the slaughter. There was no pity in the earth or heaven, the hard hot ground sucked down its full blood; the icy air enwrapped them like a shroud.
The faithfulness of love, the strength of gratitude, were of no avail; the one perished, the other was powerless to save.
In that momentary hush, as the winds sank low, the heavy eyes, half sightless now, sought with their old wistful dog-like loyalty the face to which so soon they would be blind for ever.
"Would you tell me once, sir--now? I never asked--I never would have done--but maybe I might know in this last minute; you never did that sin you bear the charge on?"
"God is my witness, no."
The light, that was like sunlight, shone once more in the aching, wandering eyes.
"I knew, I knew! It was-----"
Cecil bowed his head over him, lower and lower.
"Hush! He was but a child; and I-----"
With a sudden and swift motion, as though new life were thrilling in him, Rake raised himself erect, his arms stretched toward the east, where the young day was breaking.
"I knew, I knew! I never doubted. You will go back to your own some day, and men shall learn the truth--thank God, thank God!"
Then, with that light still on his face, his head fell backward; and with one quick, brief sigh his life fled out for ever.
...
The time passed on; the storm had risen afresh; the violence of the gusts blew yellow sheets of sand whirling over the plains. Alone, with the corpse across his knees, Cecil sat motionless as though turned to stone. His eyes were dry and fixed; but ever and again a great tearless sob shook him from head to foot. The only life that linked him with the past, the only love that had suffered all things for his sake, were gone, crushed out as if they never had been, like some insect trodden in the soil.
There was a long silence, a pause in which the wind-storm ceased and the clouds of the loosed sands sunk. Alone, with the wastes stretching around them, were the living and the dying man, with the horse standing motionless beside them, and, above, the gloom of the sullen sky. No aid was possible: they could but wait, in the stupefication of despair, for the end of all to come.
In that awful stillness, in that sudden lull in the madness of the hurricane, death had a horror which it never wore in the riot of the battlefield, in the intoxication of the slaughter. There was no pity in the earth or heaven, the hard hot ground sucked down its full blood; the icy air enwrapped them like a shroud.
The faithfulness of love, the strength of gratitude, were of no avail; the one perished, the other was powerless to save.
In that momentary hush, as the winds sank low, the heavy eyes, half sightless now, sought with their old wistful dog-like loyalty the face to which so soon they would be blind for ever.
"Would you tell me once, sir--now? I never asked--I never would have done--but maybe I might know in this last minute; you never did that sin you bear the charge on?"
"God is my witness, no."
The light, that was like sunlight, shone once more in the aching, wandering eyes.
"I knew, I knew! It was-----"
Cecil bowed his head over him, lower and lower.
"Hush! He was but a child; and I-----"
With a sudden and swift motion, as though new life were thrilling in him, Rake raised himself erect, his arms stretched toward the east, where the young day was breaking.
"I knew, I knew! I never doubted. You will go back to your own some day, and men shall learn the truth--thank God, thank God!"
Then, with that light still on his face, his head fell backward; and with one quick, brief sigh his life fled out for ever.
...
The time passed on; the storm had risen afresh; the violence of the gusts blew yellow sheets of sand whirling over the plains. Alone, with the corpse across his knees, Cecil sat motionless as though turned to stone. His eyes were dry and fixed; but ever and again a great tearless sob shook him from head to foot. The only life that linked him with the past, the only love that had suffered all things for his sake, were gone, crushed out as if they never had been, like some insect trodden in the soil.
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