Lost trumpet
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CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH
‘He had turned aside into the entrance of the Wagh
el Berka. I caught his arm. “What, here ?” ’
Subchapter i
HE would tell me nothing more. We came to
the camp then and he went to his place in the
labourers marquee. I, in my tent, tossed and turned
and found little sleep for many hours. Not that the
matters of either Huth Rizq s whereabouts or Aslaug
Simonssen s danger so vexed me. I was remember-
ing instead that scene in the rose-garden with
Pelagueya.
Getting up, some long time after midnight, I
saw a light burning high up there in Gault’s castle.
Pelagueya—wakeful like myself?
Or Aslaug Simonssen ? But that was unbelievable.
Pelagueya it must be. Why not then do the obvious
and shining thing ? Dress and go out across the
desert half-mile to her house and fling sand up against
her window and bring her down to me ? She would
stand a little back, her lips parted with surprise and
the haste of descent, and then laughter would come
in her eyes and her hands in mine would give them a
little shake, and she would cry: “Oh, Anton!”
and turn back with her hand in mine, into the indigo
‘He had turned aside into the entrance of the Wagh
el Berka. I caught his arm. “What, here ?” ’
Subchapter i
HE would tell me nothing more. We came to
the camp then and he went to his place in the
labourers marquee. I, in my tent, tossed and turned
and found little sleep for many hours. Not that the
matters of either Huth Rizq s whereabouts or Aslaug
Simonssen s danger so vexed me. I was remember-
ing instead that scene in the rose-garden with
Pelagueya.
Getting up, some long time after midnight, I
saw a light burning high up there in Gault’s castle.
Pelagueya—wakeful like myself?
Or Aslaug Simonssen ? But that was unbelievable.
Pelagueya it must be. Why not then do the obvious
and shining thing ? Dress and go out across the
desert half-mile to her house and fling sand up against
her window and bring her down to me ? She would
stand a little back, her lips parted with surprise and
the haste of descent, and then laughter would come
in her eyes and her hands in mine would give them a
little shake, and she would cry: “Oh, Anton!”
and turn back with her hand in mine, into the indigo
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| The books of Lewis Grassic Gibbon > Lost trumpet > (217) |
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| Permanent URL | https://digital.nls.uk/205192298 |
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| Description | J. Leslie Mitchell. |
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| Shelfmark | Vts.143.j.8 |
| Attribution and copyright: |
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More information
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| Description | Sixteen books written by Lewis Grassic Gibbon (1901-1935), regarded as the most important Scottish prose writer of the early 20th century. All were published in the last seven years of his life, mostly under his real name, James Leslie Mitchell. They include two works of science fiction, non-fiction works on exploration, short stories set in Egypt, a novel about Spartacus, and the classic 'Scots Quair' trilogy which includes 'Sunset Song'. Mitchell's first book 'Hanno, or the future of exploration' (1928) is rare and has never been republished. |
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