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Quiller-Couch, Arthur Thomas, Sir, 1863-1944

"Memoirs of His Adventures At Home and Abroad and Particularly in the Island of Corsica: Beginning with the Year 1756"

"
I looked and saw the sickle of the waning moon suspended over the
gulf. It shot but the feeblest glimmer along the edges of the
granite pinnacles, none upon the black masses of the pine-tops.
But around it the darkness held a faint violet glow, and I knew that
day must be climbing close on its heels.
There was no promise of day, however, along the track into which we
plunged--the track by which my comrades had descended to cross the
valley. It dived down the mountain-side through a tunnel of pines,
and in places the winter streams, now dry, had channelled it and
broken it up with land-slides.
"You do not ask where I am leading you," she said, holding her
lantern for me at one of these awkward places.
"I am your hostage, Princess," I answered, without looking at her, my
eyes being busy just then in discovering good foothold. "You must do
with me what you will."
"_If I could! Ah, if I could!_"
She said it hard and low, with clenched teeth, almost hissing the
words. I stared at her, amazed. No sign of anger had she shown
until this moment. What cause indeed had she to be angered? In what
way had my words offended? Yet angry she was, trembling with such a
gust of wrath that the lantern shook in her hand.


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