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Read Ebook: Bert Wilson Marathon Winner by Duffield J W
Font size: Background color: Text color: Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev PageEbook has 841 lines and 47263 words, and 17 pagesArielle, I conjure you, as this concerns the dearest being, much dearer than myself; as I have only one son and he can become what we well know that I could never be: is it not possible to make an unexampled, an almost desperate effort with regard to the future; to violate time; to snatch from the years, even were they to revenge themselves upon us two, the secret which they conceal so strictly and which contains much more than our own life and our own happiness?... ARIELLE. MERLIN. And, therefore, starting from this point which I can surmount, we must submit to unknown powers, question facts like other men, await their reply and try to conquer them if they threaten harm to those whom we love.... ARIELLE. But here they come, in the breaking dawn.... Let us hasten away, they are coming near.... Let us leave to their destiny, which is beginning its work, the solitude and the silence which it demands. JOYZELLE. What are you seeking? LANC?OR. I do not know where I am.... I was seeking a shelter.... Who are you? JOYZELLE. My name is Joyzelle. LANC?OR. Joyzelle.... I am saying the name.... It is as caressing as a wing, the breath of a flower, a whisper of gladness, a ray of light.... It describes you completely, it sings in the heart, it lights the lips.... JOYZELLE. And you, who are you? LANC?OR. I no longer myself know who I am.... A few days ago, my name was Lanc?or; I knew where I was and I knew myself.... To-day, I seek myself, I grope within myself and all around me and I wander in the mist, amid mirages.... JOYZELLE. What mist? What mirages?... How long have you been on this island? LANC?OR. Since yesterday.... JOYZELLE. Strange, they did not tell me.... LANC?OR. No one saw me.... I was wandering on the shore, I was in despair.... JOYZELLE. Oh! Why?... LANC?OR. I was very far from here, I was very far from him, when a letter told me that my old father was dying.... I took ship at once. We were long at sea; then, in the first port at which the ship put in, I learnt that it was too late, that my father was no more.... I continued my voyage, at least to be on the scene of his last thoughts and carry out his last wishes.... JOYZELLE. Why are you here? LANC?OR. Why? I do not know, nor do I know how.... The sea was very still and the sky was clear.... We saw only the water slumbering in the azure.... Suddenly, without warning, the waves were invaded by thick blue mists.... They rose like a veil, which clung to our hands, to the rigging, to our faces.... Then the wind blew, our anchor broke loose and the blind ship, driven by a current that made her timbers creak, arrived towards evening in the unknown harbour of this unexpected island.... Sad and disheartened, I landed on the beach; I fell asleep in a cave overlooking the sea; and, when I awoke, the fog had lifted and I saw the ship disappear like a radiant wing on the horizon of the waves. JOYZELLE. What had happened? LANC?OR. I do not know.... I would have tried to follow her, but I could find no boat in the harbour.... I must wait, therefore, until another vessel passes.... JOYZELLE. That is curious.... It is like myself.... LANC?OR. Like you?... JOYZELLE. Yes, I too came to the island through a thick fog.... But I was e feathers early to-night. You must be dead tired after the race." "Oh, I'm not especially sleepy," replied Bert, "just a little lazy. I had such a big supper that I'm doing the anaconda stunt, just now. I'm full and therefore happy. I'm at peace with all mankind. If I've an enemy in the world, I forgive him." "Well, you haven't an enemy in this college world just now, you can bet on that," said Tom. "The fellows are talking of nothing else than the race this afternoon. The whole place is buzzing with it. They're sure that you've cinched your place on the Olympic team beyond all question." "Why," replied Tom, "it was a Frenchman I believe--de Coubertin or some name like that--who suggested it." "That seems queer too," said Dick. "You don't usually think of the French in connection with athletics. Of course they're a great nation and all that, but somehow or other they bring to mind high heels and frock coats and waxed mustaches and button hole bouquets. The men kiss each other when they meet and they cry too easily. They seem a little too delicate for the rough work of the field and track." "They do seem a little womanish," admitted Bert, "but that is only a matter of custom. Don't think for a minute, though, that there is anything weak or cowardly about the French. There are no finer fighters in the world. They go to their death as gaily as to a dinner. No one will die more readily for an idea. A little theatrical about it, perhaps, but the real stuff is there." "Oh, they're fighters sure enough," asserted Dick. "They're something like old Fuzzy-Wuzzy that Kipling tells about; "''E's all 'ot sand and ginger when alive, And 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead.'" Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page |
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