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第37节

stories by english authors in africa(旅非英国作家的故事)-第37节


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own trouble scarcely disconcerted her; she had feared only for the Greek 

in the desert。 The thought of his agony; his hunger; goaded her nearly to 

madness; but she was a little comforted when she remembered the eggs。 

There was enough water in them to last him two or three days。 It was the 

hour   of   sunset   when   she   arrived;   and   she   instantly   set   out   desertward; 

carrying a basket containing wine and food。 She had determined to live at 

the hotel until the days of persecution were past。 The heavy sand made it 

hard to proceed rapidly; but she struggled on bravely; and when far enough 

from   civilisation      called   aloud    the  signal…word      agreed     on。  But   no   one 

answered。 All   through   the   night   she   wandered;   searching;   till   within   an 

hour   of   sunrise;   then   she   gave   way   and   sat   weeping   on   the   sand。   With 

daylight she rose to her feet; determined to find her lover; but had scarcely 

gone   twenty   yards   before;   with   a   low   cry   of   grief;   she   knelt   beside   the 



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                                         STORIES 



body   of   a   dead   man。   In   the   half…eaten;   decayed   features   she   recognised 

Gregorio   and   knew   she   had   come   too   late。   Undeterred   by   the   hideous 

spectacle; she kissed him tenderly and lay beside him。 

     The sun mounted slowly in the heavens。 

     The   living   figure   lay   as   lifeless   as   the   dead。   But   after   a   while   the 

woman rose and dug with her hands a hollow in the sand。 She heeded not 

the heat; nor the flight of time; and by evening her work was done。 

     Raising the body in her arms; she carried it to the hollow and laid it 

gently down; then tearfully shovelled back the sand till it was hidden。 So 

Gregorio   found   a   tomb。   Nor   did   it   remain   unconsecrated;   for   beside   it 

Madam   Marx   knelt   and   spoke   with   faltering   lips   the   remnants   of   the 

prayers she had learned when a child。 As she prayed she watched vaguely 

a steamer disappear behind the horizon。 

       The   khedival     mail…boat    /Ramses/     sped   swiftly   over   the  unruffled 

surface of the sea。 At the stern a tall fair Englishman sat looking on the 

level shores of Egypt and the minarets of Alexandria。 With a sad smile he 

turned to the child who called to him by his name。 They were a strange 

pair; for the boy was dark; and foreign…looking; and there was something 

of cunning in his restless black eyes。 The man's large hand rested softly on 

the raven curls of the youngster as he muttered to himself: 

     〃For her sake I will watch over you; and you shall grow up to be a true 

man。〃 

     So Xantippe's   life had not   been lived   in vain;  for  she had loved   and 

been loved; and her memory was sweet to her lover。 Moreover; Gregorio's 

dreams of wealth for his son were to find fulfilment; and the sand of the 

desert; maybe; lies lightly on him。 



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