Lost trumpet
(273)
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THE LOST TRUMPET 273
But she did not finish what she had thought to
say. Instead, she left my side and crossed to Huebsch,
and held out her hand.
“Shall I try ?”
He smiled at her. It seemed to me that a great
weariness had suddenly been imprinted upon his
face. “Well, well, why shouldn’t you play with the
toy. Princess ?”
She raised the Trumpet, and smiled over at me, a
smile I knew, and set the mouthpiece to her lips.
We waited, I with a quickly beating heart. There
came not a scrap of sound. Laughing, but white¬
faced, Pelagueya lowered the thing.
I m utterly useless. And I thought there was to
be some fun. What a bore—like everything else.
. . . Who is next ? Aslaug—catch !”
Aslaug disturbed another little cloud of dust
that settled on Quaritch. Thereat she stood staring
at him affrightedly, so that even Pelagueya noted the
stare and moved irritably, questioningly. But no
sound had come from the Lost Trumpet. I saw the
day near to breaking then. The promise of the sand¬
storm had not been fulfilled, and the lightning in
the sky had been but a solitary flicker. I turned back
again at sound of Pelagueya’s voice.
“The thing is a fraud, Mr. Marrot. . . . Eaogh !
Sorry. I’m sleepy. There, we’ve all tried now, so
Mr. Huebsch will have to take it away and sell it in
a museum.”
Marrot was withdrawing his lips from the Trumpet
though not his eyes.
But she did not finish what she had thought to
say. Instead, she left my side and crossed to Huebsch,
and held out her hand.
“Shall I try ?”
He smiled at her. It seemed to me that a great
weariness had suddenly been imprinted upon his
face. “Well, well, why shouldn’t you play with the
toy. Princess ?”
She raised the Trumpet, and smiled over at me, a
smile I knew, and set the mouthpiece to her lips.
We waited, I with a quickly beating heart. There
came not a scrap of sound. Laughing, but white¬
faced, Pelagueya lowered the thing.
I m utterly useless. And I thought there was to
be some fun. What a bore—like everything else.
. . . Who is next ? Aslaug—catch !”
Aslaug disturbed another little cloud of dust
that settled on Quaritch. Thereat she stood staring
at him affrightedly, so that even Pelagueya noted the
stare and moved irritably, questioningly. But no
sound had come from the Lost Trumpet. I saw the
day near to breaking then. The promise of the sand¬
storm had not been fulfilled, and the lightning in
the sky had been but a solitary flicker. I turned back
again at sound of Pelagueya’s voice.
“The thing is a fraud, Mr. Marrot. . . . Eaogh !
Sorry. I’m sleepy. There, we’ve all tried now, so
Mr. Huebsch will have to take it away and sell it in
a museum.”
Marrot was withdrawing his lips from the Trumpet
though not his eyes.
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| The books of Lewis Grassic Gibbon > Lost trumpet > (273) |
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| Permanent URL | https://digital.nls.uk/205193026 |
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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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