The Knight Of The Golden Melice - John Turvill Adams (little red riding hood read aloud txt) 📗
- Author: John Turvill Adams
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Seat, And Throwing The Beaver Robe A Little Off The Right Shoulder To
Allow Opportunity For Gesticulation, He Stood Before The Picture, And
After A Moment Of Grave Thought Addressed It.
"Waqua," He Said, "Is A Young Man, And Ashamed To Speak First In The
Presence Of His Elder; But The Customs Of The White Men Are Very
Different From Those Of Their Red Brethren, And Perhaps Among His
White Brothers The Young Men Speak First That Their Folly May Appear.
Because He Thinks His White Brother Desires Him To Speak, He Will Make
A Very Little Speech."
"The Silent Chief (So He Called The Picture, Not Knowing What Other
Name To Use) Knows That Waqua Is A Friend, Because He Sees Him In
Company With The White Man Who Went Away With The Chief's Daughter
With The Strawberry Lips. Waqua Only Asks The Hospitality Of The
Silent Chief, And Permission To Remain In His Lodge Till His Friend
Returns."
Thus Having Spoken, Waqua Gathered Up His Robe Upon His Shoulder, And
Awaited A Reply.
But In Vain. Still The Figure Preserved Silence, And Maintained The
Same Immovable Attitude, Gazing On Him With Eyes From Which There Was
No Escaping, And Which Seemed To Pierce Into His Soul. The Uneasiness
Of Waqua Increased. He Felt No Fear, But A Confusion Of Thought Which
Threatened To Obscure Entirely His Faculties. The Idea Crossed His
Mind That The Man Was Dumb, But That Accounted Only For The Silence.
Why The Immobility? If He Were Dumb, At Least He Could Walk, For
Well-Formed Limbs Were Visible. But The Man Was Quite Still, Not Even
Winking, Only Fastening His Eyes Steadfastly On His Own. To The
Excited Imagination Of The Indian, The Eyes Began To Assume A Deeper
Sternness, And He Found It More And More Difficult To Withdraw His
Own. Suddenly, A Thought Darted Through His Mind, Which Made Him
Shiver All Over, And Spring From His Seat. The Idea Of Fascination
Caused The Start. He Had More Than Once Beheld The Black Snake
Extended On The Ground, Charming, With His Glittering Eyes The
Anguished Bird Which, With Fainter And Fainter Screams, Striving To
Delay A Fate It Could Not Escape, Kept Flying Round And Round In
Constantly Diminishing Circles, Until It Fell Into The Jaws Of The
Destroyer. The Same Fatal Influence He Had Seen Exercised Upon Rabbits
And Other Small Game, The Prey Of The Snake, And He Did Not Doubt That
A Like Fascination Was Attempted To Be Practiced On Himself, And That
The Man Was A Conjurer. The Thought Threw Him Into A Rage, And He
Determined To Take Vengeance For The Insult. Drawing, Therefore, His
Tomahawk From His Girdle And Brandishing It Over His Head, He
Exclaimed,
"Waqua Is A Warrior, And Not A Bird To Be Made Weak By A White
Medicine."
But Before The Enraged Indian Could Cast The Weapon From His Hand, He
Felt His Arm Suddenly Arrested, And, Turning, Beheld The Laughing Face
Of Prudence Rix.
"Stop, Stop!" Cried The Girl, Hardly Able To Speak For Merriment;
"What Are You Going To Do? It Is Not A Man, But Only A Painting."
It Is Not Probable That The Indian Perfectly Comprehended The
Explanation Of Prudence, Who, In Spite Of Her Affected Fears, Had
Been, Without His Knowledge, An Amused Spectator Of His Conduct; But
Her Interposition Had The Effect To Prevent Any Violence, Especially,
As Upon Looking Again At The Portrait, He Felt No Longer The Awe Which
Had Oppressed Him, And Therefore Knew That The Charm Had Lost Its
Power. He Lowered The Tomahawk To His Side, And Addressed Himself To
Her.
"What White Man Ever Entered The Wigwam Of Waqua And Was Not Invited
To A Seat On His Mat? Who Can Say That Waqua Fastened His Eyes On Him
Like A Snake?"
"But See," Said The Girl, Advancing To The Portrait, And Passing Her
Hand Over Its Surface; "It Is Nothing But A Cunning Painting. Come And
Satisfy Thyself."
Waqua Complied, In Part, With Prudence's Invitation, Feeling Some
Contempt For A Man Who Would Permit Such An Indignity And Advancing To
The Picture Regarded It With Keen And Inquisitive Glances. He Refused,
However, To Touch The Figure, Until Prudence, Taking His Hand In Hers,
Placed It On The Canvas. But No Sooner Did He Feel The Flat Surface,
Than, Uttering A Cry Of Astonishment, He Leaped Backward, Almost
Overturning Prudence In His Haste, Keeping His Eyes On The Picture,
And Ejaculating Twice Or Thrice The Expression, "Ugh!"
"What A Simple Savage Thou Art," Exclaimed Prudence, "I Tell Thee It
Cannot Bite. It Can Neither Hear Nor See, And Thou Art A Man To Be
Scared By It!"
The Indian Felt The Taunt, Conveyed Quite As Much In The Tone As In
The Words, And Without Replying, But As If To Show That He Was Above
The Feeling Of Fear, Holding The Tomahawk In One Hand, He Passed The
Other Over The Whole Surface, As Far As He Could Reach, Winding Up The
Achievement With Eyes Wild With Wonder, And Snorting Out Divers
Astonished "Ughs!"
Chapter X ("Burned Marmion's Swarthy Cheek Like Fire, And Shook His Very Frame For Ire, And--'This To Me!'--He Said.")
Marmion.
At This Moment The Assistant Spikeman Entered The Room. His Advance
Had Been So Noiseless That It Was Unobserved By Either The Girl Or The
Indian, So Entirely Were They Engrossed By The Adventure Of The
Portrait.
"Whom Have We Here?" He Exclaimed. "Methinks, Prudence, There Are
Other Parts Of The Dwelling More Fit For Such Visitors."
"I Desired To See," Said The Girl, Evasively, "How A Savage Would Act
Who Never Had Beholden A Painting. There Is No Great Harm In That,"
She Added, Pouting.
"And Doubtless He Mistook It For A Live Man. Master Vandyke Had Skill,
I Trow, To Deceive More Learned Eyes Than Those Of A Wild Indian. But,
Prudence, Thou Knowest That I Mean Not To Chide Thee. Far Different
Words Arise Spontaneously To My Lips. But Go, Now, And I Will Pay The
Honors To Thy Red Friend."
"He Is No More Friend Of Mine Than I Hope All The World Are My
Friends," Answered The Girl, Glad To Get Away To Acquaint The Lovers
That Spikeman Was In The House.
"I Wish," She Muttered, As She Closed The Door, Though Not So Loud As
To Be Overheard, "That Some Folk Were Not So Great Friends Of Mine."
"Have My People Given My Friend Anything To Eat?" Inquired The
Assistant, On The Departure Of The Girl.
"Waqua Is Not Hungry," Answered The Indian. "His White Brother Has Fed
Him Until He Has No Place For More."
"What Thinks Waqua Of The Painted Man?" Asked The Assistant, Observing
That The Eyes Of The Savage Wandered Every Now And Then To The
Painting.
"It Is A Great Medicine," Replied The Indian, Noticing With Admiration
The Resemblance Between It And The Assistant, (Whose Father's Portrait
It Was.) "My Brother Loved His Father Very Much, And So, Before He Was
Called To The Spirit Land, My Brother Put Him On A Board, Even As
White Men Put Faces In Frozen Water. But My Brother Is Wiser, Because
He Makes His Father Stay On The Board, Instead Of Disappearing Like
Faces In Frozen Water."
"My Brother Is Right," Said The Assistant, Not Unwilling To Avail
Himself Of An Opportunity To Impress On The Mind Of The Savage The
Superiority Of The Whites; "But He Has Seen Little Of The Wisdom Of
The White Man. It Is A Light Thing To Put A Man Upon A Board, Though
At The Same Time He May Be In The Spirit Land. It Is Wonderful To
Waqua, But A White Child Understands It. If Waqua Remains The Friend
Of The White Man, Greater And More Wonderful Things Shall He Learn."
"Waqua Is An Indian, With An Indian Head, And He Is Afraid It Is Not
Big Enough To Hold All These Things. It Makes His Head Ache To Think
Of Them."
"My Brother's Head Will Grow. But Will He Follow Me Now Into Another
Part Of My Dwelling?"
The Indian Made A Gesture Of Assent, And The Assistant Preceding Him,
The Two Went In The Direction Of The Room Where Were Arundel And
Eveline.
Prudence, When She Left Spikeman And Waqua Together, Had Rushed In
Upon The Lovers To Apprise Them Of The Assistant's Presence. The Proud
Spirit Of The Young Man Revolted Somewhat At The Idea Of Stealing Out
Of The House Like A Felon, And A Little Time Was Spent Before The
Expostulations Of Prudence And The Entreaties Of Eveline Could
Prevail. And When He Rose To Leave, Some Time Longer Was Consumed In
Tender Leave-Takings, Which, Though They Seemed Instants To The
Lovers, Were Lengthened Almost Into Hours To The Anxious Waiting-Maid.
Hence It Happened That When The Door Was Opened, Arundel Was
Confronted By The Assistant. Surprise And Indignation Were Both
Expressed In The Countenance Of Spikeman, As He Demanded To What
Circumstance He Was Indebted For The Honor Of The Young Man's Company.
"Master Spikeman Knows," Answered Arundel, "Without Any Averment On My
Part, That I Came Not To See Him."
"It Needs No Declaration Of Thine To Assure Me Of That," Said
Spikeman.
"I Do Nought," Said Arundel, "Which I Will Not Avouch By Both Deeds
And Words. Plainly, I Came To See Mistress Eveline Dunning, And
Strange Indeed Would It Be, Were I In This Strange Land To Avoid Her
Presence."
"Speak Out The Whole Truth," Said Spikeman, With Rising Passion, "And
Avow That Like A Thief Thou Didst Steal In To Corrupt The Affections
Of My Ward, And Teach Her Undutifulness To Her Guardian."
Before The Young Man Could Reply, Eveline Interposed.
"You Do Master Arundel Wrong, Sir," She Said, "To Charge Him With
Aught Unbecoming. He Comes Hither In Open Day, And That By My Special
Invitation."
The Eyes Of The Spirited Girl Flashed, And Her Cheeks Were Crimson, As
She Made The Avowal.
"This From You, Eveline Dunning," Exclaimed Spikeman, With
Ill-Suppressed Rage. "Have You So Far Forgotten The Modesty Of Your
Sex As To Make This Declaration In Public? I Knew Before, That This
Boy Had Bewitched You, But Dreamed Not That He Had Triumphed Over All
Maidenly Reserve."
There Was Something Insufferably Insulting, Both In The Tone And In
The Insinuation Concealed In The Language, Which Was Not Entirely
Understood By The Pure Mind Of Eveline, But Which Was Maddening To Her
Lover.
"Only A Base Ingrate And Liar," He Cried, "Would Slander Celestial
Purity. Master Spikeman Knows That What He Utters Is False."
"Ha! Darest Thou, Malapert Boy," Said Spikeman, Advancing To Arundel
With His Arm Raised, As If About To Strike; But Waqua Stepped Between
Them. He Had Gravely Listened To The Heated Conversation, And Supposed
He Understood Its Purport.
"Let Not The Wise White Man," He Said, Addressing Spikeman, "Imitate A
Mad Wolf In His Anger. Give To My Brother For His Wife The Girl Whose
Cheeks Are Like The Summer Morning, For Her Heart Has Hid Itself In
His Bosom."
The Fury Of Spikeman, Thus Bearded In His Own House, Was Now Directed
To The Savage. Anger Appeared To Have Completely Deprived Him Of
Reason, For Turning Upon The Indian With Glaring Eyes And Exerting His
Strength To The Utmost, He Hurled Him With Irresistible Force Across
The Room Against The Wainscot, Where His Head Struck A Post, And He
Fell Bleeding On The Floor.
Waqua Was Instantly On His Feet Again, And His First Motion Was To
Clutch The Tomahawk, But Arundel Catching His Arm, Compelled Him To
Desist From His Revenge. Holding The Savage By The Arm, Arundel Passed
Out Of The Apartment, Leaving The Assistant Standing As If Petrified
By His Own Violence, While Eveline, Pale, Yet Resolute, Had Sunk Upon
A Seat, And Prudence Was Hysterically Shrieking. As Soon As They Stood
In The Street, Arundel Said:
"I Am Grieved, Waqua, That Thou, On My Account, Shouldst Have Been The
Object Of The Ruffian's Rage. Its Possibility Occurred Not To Me."
"Let Not My Brother Grieve," Said The Indian. "It Is Nothing; Not So
Much As The Scratch Of A Bear's Paw."
"I Take Blame To Myself For This Day's Unhappy Violence, And Hope That
No Further Mischief May Spring Out Of It.
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