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Marryat, Frederick, 1792-1848

"The Pacha of Many Tales"

Do you laugh at our beard? Speak more
intelligibly. Remember!"
"I remember it as if it were now," continued the maniac, "although years
have rolled away. Never will it be effaced from my recollection while
this heart, broken as it is, continues to beat, or this brain may be
permitted to burn. The sun had just disappeared behind the rugged
summits of the mountain which sheltered my abode from the unkind
north-east wind: the leaves of the vines that hung in festoons on the
trellis before my cottage, which, but a minute before, pierced by his
glorious rays, had appeared so brilliant and transparent, had now
assumed a browner shade, and, as far as the eye could reach, a thin blue
vapour was descending the ravine: the distant sea had changed its
intense blue for a sombre grey, while the surf rolled sullenly to the
beach, as if in discontent that it could no longer reflect the colours
of the prism as before, when it seemed to dance with joy under the
brilliant illumination of the god of day--"
"Poof!" ejaculated the pacha, fanning himself.
"My boat was on the beach; my eyes were fixed upon it, in happy vacancy,
until the shades of night prevented my discerning the nets which were
spread upon its gunnel. I turned round at the soft voice of my Etana,
who was seated near me with her infant in her arms, and watching the
little one's impatience, as it would demand a more rapid flow of milk
from that snowy breast, and the fond smile of the delighted mother, as
she bent over the first dear pledge of our affection.


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