Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 24, 2025
In God's name, hush! Thou shalt not kill! Thou shalt not kill!" He seemed, without conscious effort, to be repeating the words of this Voice with which he held this terrible communion, and waved Tregar back with an imperious gesture of defiance. Facing Mic-co he flung out his arm. "I am a murderer in the sight of God and Man!" he choked. "I murdered my cousin Theodomir for a dream of empire.
He told of Mic-co, of the quiet hours of healing by the pool, of another night of storm and stress when Carl had gone forth into the wilds with the Indian girl. For the first time now he felt that he had pierced the girl's shell of tragic introspection and caught her interest. Though the rain came faster and the lantern flickered, Philip went on with his quiet story.
I have been in wild territory with naturalists and hunters. Probably I have known more adventurous hardship than most men." Mic-co nodded. "I fancied so," he said. "What is your favorite painting?" he asked unexpectedly. The answer came without an instant's hesitation. "Paul Potter's 'Bull."
Mic-co placed a live coal upon the wrist of his young guest and quietly watched. There was no flinching. The coal burned itself out upon the motionless wrist of a Spartan. Thereafter they rode hard and hunted, day by day. Carl worked in the fields with Mic-co and the Indians, tramped at sunset over miles of island path fringed with groves of bitter orange, disciplining his body to a new endurance.
"He will sleep now, I think," he said a little later. "A drug is best when a Voice is mocking? The Baron leaned forward and caught Mic-co's arm in a grasp of iron. "Who are you," he whispered, "that you suffer with him now? You are white and shaking. Who are you that you know the tongue of my country?" Mic-co sighed. "I," said he sadly, "am that man he thought to kill!"
He learned to tan hides and to carry a deer upon his shoulders. Nightly he plunged from the sweat-lodge into the lake and later slept the sleep of utter weariness under a deerskin cover. So Mic-co disciplined the splendid body and brain of his guest to the strength and endurance of an Indian; but the quiet hours by the pool brought with them the subtler healing.
"Names," said Mic-co, "are nothing to me, Baron Tregar. They are merely a part of that great world from which I live apart. I am a Heidelberg man, since you feel sufficiently interested to inquire. Though my choice of a profession was merely a careless desire to know some one thing well, I have never regretted it." "I I beg your pardon," stammered the Baron and glanced keenly at Mic-co.
Storm coverings of buckskin were rolled above the outer windows and above the doorways which opened into the court. Here, when the moon rose over the lonely lodge and glinted peacefully in the tilled pool, Mic-co listened to the tale of his young guest. It was a record of bodily abuse, of passion and temptation, which few men may live to tell, but Mic-co neither condoned nor condemned.
Mic-co had been summoned away by an Indian servant. A soft light gleamed in the corner of the court in a shower of vines. Its light was a little like the soft rays of the Venetian lamp that had shone in the Sherrill garden, but Carl ruthlessly put the memory aside. It had grown once into a devouring flame of evil portent. It must not do so again.
"I care nothing for race!" cried Carl with a flash of his fine eyes. "Must I pattern my life by the set tenets of race bigotry. I have known too many women with white faces and scarlet souls." "If I know you at all," said Mic-co with a quiet smile, "there will be no pattern, save of your own making." "I come of a family who rebel at patterns," said Carl. "My mother my uncle my cousin.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking