Still covering with his body his defenceless charge, he
moved rapidly towards this refuge. Rapid as was the motion, it was not
speedy enough; he reached the railing, caught her with his one powerful
arm, imbued now with a giant's strength, flung her over to the waiting
hands that seized and dragged her in, pausing for an instant, ere he
leaped himself, to beat back a half-dozen of the foremost miscreants,
who would else have captured their prey, just vanishing from sight.
Sublime, yet fatal delay! but an instant, yet in that instant a thousand
forms surrounded him, disarmed him, overcame him, and beat him down.
Meanwhile what of Francesca? The morning passed, and with its passing
came terrible rumors of assault and death. The afternoon began, wore
on,--the rumors deepened to details of awful facts and realities; and
he--he, with his courage, his fatal dress--was absent, was on those
death-crowded streets. She wandered from room to room, forgetting her
reserve, and accosting every soul she met for later news,--for
information which, received, did but torture her with more intolerable
pangs, and send her to her knees; though, kneeling, she could not pray,
only cry out in some dumb, inarticulate fashion, "God be merciful!"
The afternoon was spent; the day gone; the summet twilight deepening
into night; and still he did not come. She had caught up her hat and
mantle with some insane intention of rushing into the wide, wild city,
on a frenzied search, when two gentlemen passing by her door, talking of
the all-absorbing theme, arrested her ear and attention.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231