Fiction > Book editions > London, 1885 - Dynamiter

92 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS.
was being folloAved. I made certain of the features of
the man, which were quite strange to me, and turned
into a small cafe, where I whiled away an hour, pre-
tending to read the papers, but inwardly convulsed with
terror. When I came forth again into the street, it was
quite empty, and I breathed again ; but alas, I had not
turned three corners, when I once more observed the
human hound pursuing me. Not an hour was to be lost ;
timely submission might yet preserve a life which other-
wise was forfeit and dishonoured ; and I fled, with what
speed you may conceive, to the Paris agency of the
society I served.
' My submission was accepted. I took up once more
the hated burthen of that life ; once more I was at the
call of men whom I despised and hated, while yet I
envied and admired them. They at least were whole-
hearted in the things they purposed ; but I, who had once
been such as they, had fallen from the brightness of my
faith, and now laboured, like a hireling, for tlie wages of
a loathed existence. Ay, sir, to that I was condemned ;
I obeyed to continue to live, and lived but to obey.
' The last charge that was laid upon me was the one
which has to-night so tragically ended. Boldly telling
who I was, I was to request from your highness, on
behalf of my society, a private audience, where it was
designed to murder you. If one thing remained to me
of my old convictions, it was the hate of kings ; and when
this task was offered me, I took it gladly. Alas, sir,
you triumphed. As we supped, you gained upon my
heart. Your character, your talents, your designs for
our unhappy country, all had been misrepresented. I
began to forget you were a prince ; I began, all too
feelingly, to remember that you were a man. As I saw
the hour approach, I suffered agonies untold ; and when,
at last, we heard the slamming of the door which
announced in my unwilling ears tlie arrival of the partner
of my crime, you will bear me out with what instancy I
besought you to depart. You would not, alas ! and
what could I ? Kill you, I could not ; my heart revolted,
my hand turned back from such a, deed. Yet it was