Alan turned and saw.
This was what he saw or seemed to see: The figure of the Asika in her
robes and breastplate of gold, standing upon the air, just beyond the
ship, as though on it she might set no foot. Her waving black hair hung
about her shoulders, but the sharp wind did not seem to stir it nor did
her white dress flutter, and on her beautiful face was stamped a look
of awful rage and agony, the rage of betrayal, the agony of loss. In
her right hand she held a knife, and from a wound in her breast the
red blood ran down her golden corselet. She pointed to Jeekie with the
knife, she opened her arms to Alan as though in unutterable longing,
then slowly raised them upwards towards the fading glory of the sky
above--and was gone.
Jeekie sat down upon the deck, mopping his brow with a red handkerchief,
while Alan, who felt faint, clung to the bulwarks.
"Tell you, Major, that Asika can do all that kind of thing. Never know
where you find her next. 'Spect she come to live with us in England
and just call in now and again when it dark. Tell you, she very awkward
customer, think p'raps you done better stop there and marry her.
Pages:
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413