Page:Doughty--Mirrikh or A woman from Mars.djvu/51

 But there was nothing to fear. The instant the crowd saw us they fell back, the half-naked cowards scampering off in every direction, not, however, before the Doctor had caught the flogger and dashed him to the earth. The fellow made no resistence [sic], but went crawling off on his hands and knees like some animal, disappearing among the palms.

Meanwhile Maurice had whipped out his knife and cut the cords which bound the girl, who seemed to have fallen into a state of unconsciousness. I would have helped him had I not been prevented by my legs being suddenly seized by an aged, white haired man, who crouched upon the ground weeping and muttering. With some little difficulty I managed to free myself, and extending a hand raised him to his feet.

“What does all this mean?” I exclaimed. “Look, Doctor! These people are white!”

I had used the word when perhaps I should not, for certainly the girl was not white, her skin having rather the yellowish tinge of the Spaniard or Portuguese. And yet she was beautiful. As my eyes turned toward her I saw it and wondered that I had not seen it at the first. Never was there a form of more correct proportions! Never such hair as those long black tresses, hanging loosely in a thick mass over her shoulders; as for the face every feature was perfection itself, a study for a sculptor; involuntarily my mind pictured the Venus di Milo, and then

Why then, as my eyes rested upon her while she stood supported by Maurice, a most singular thing happened to me.

Suddenly all my surroundings seemed blotted out and I could see only the girl, and the sight seemed to move my heart as it had never been moved before.

What did it mean?

Was it a case of love?

Love! Had I ever known it? Never, certainly, as I knew it then!

As I gazed upon that still, tear-stained face, a strange tingling shot through me down to my very toes, and I was seized with an instant of jealousy of Maurice; a longing to tear her from him and fly with her to the forest, to bury myself in its most remote recesses where I could live for her alone!

Was I mad? Was this the man who had cursed the fair sex with that bitterness which can be had only by sad