The Bride of the Nile Volume 11
Ebers, Georg, 1837-1898
English
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THE BRIDE OF THE NILE
By Georg Ebers
Volume 11.
CHAPTER XVII.
Paula passed a fearful night in the small, frightfully hot prison-cell in
which she and Betta were shut up. She could not sleep, and when once she
succeeded in closing her eyes she was roused by the yells and clanking
chains of the captives in the common prison and the heavy step of another
sufferer who paced the room overhead, even more restless than herself.
Poor fellow-victim! Was it a tortured conscience that drove him hither
and thither, or was he as innocent as she was, and was it longing, love,
and anxiety that bereft him of sleep?
He was no vulgar criminal. There was no room for those in this part of
the building; and at midnight, when the noise in the large hall was
suddenly silenced, soft sounds of the lute came down to her from his
cell, and only a master could strike the strings with such skill.
She cared nothing for the stranger; but she was grateful for his gift of
music, for it diverted her thoughts from herself, and she listened with
growing interest. Glad of an excuse for rising from her hard, hot bed,
she sprang up and placed herself close to the one window, an opening
barred with iron. But then the music ceased and a conversation began
between the warder and her fellow-prisoner.
What voice was that? Did she deceive herself, or hear rightly?
Her heart stood still while she listened; and now every doubt was
silenced: It was Orion, and none other, whom she heard speaking in the
room above. Then the warder spoke his name; they were talking of her
deceased uncle; and now, as if in obedience to some sign, they lowered
their voices. She heard whispering but could not distinguish what was
said. At length parting words were uttered in louder tones, the door of
the cell was locked and the prisoner approached his window.
At this she pressed her face close to the heated iron bars, looked
upwards, listened a moment and, as nothing was stirring, she said, first
softly, and then rather louder: "Orion, Orion!"
And, from above, her name was spoken in reply. She greeted him and asked
how and when he had come hither; but he interrupted her at the first
words with a decisive: "Silence!" adding in a moment, "Look out!"
She listened in expectancy; the minutes crept on at a snail's pace to a
full half hour before he at last said: "Now!" And, in a few moments, she
held in her hand a written scroll that he let down to her by a lutestring
weighted with a scrap of wood.
She had neither light nor fire, and the night was moonless. So she
called up "Dark!" and immediately added, as he had done: "Look out."
She then tied to the string the two best roses of those Pulcheria had
brought her, and at her glad "Now!" they floated up.
He expressed his thanks in a few low chords overflowing with yearning and
passion; then all was still, for the warder had forbidden him to sing or
play at night and he dared not risk losing the man's favor.
Paula laid down again with Orion's letter in her hand, and when she felt
slumber stealing upon her, she pushed it under her pillow and ere long
was sleeping on it. When they both woke, soon after sunrise, they had
been dreaming of each other and gladly hailed the return of day.
How furious Orion had felt when the prison door closed upon him! He
longed to wrench the iron bars from the window and kick down or force the
door; and there is no more humiliating and enraging feeling for a man
than that of finding himself shut up like a wild beast, cut off from the
world to which he belongs and which he needs, both to give him all that
makes life worth having, and to receive such good as he can do and give.
Yesterday their dungeon had seemed a foretaste of hell, they had each
been on the verge of despair; to-day what different feelings animated
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