Потерянный континент: история Атлантиды
13. The Burying Alive Of Nais
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Ididthat,andforaninstantfeltherfondlethemdownthecrookoftheairshaftoutofsight,andthenheardherwithdrawherlittlehandandkissitfondly.Thenagainshekissedherownfingersandstretchedthemup,andItookupthevirtueofthatpartingkissonmyfinger-tipsandpresseditsacredlytomylips.
“Living,sleeping,ordead,alwaysmydarling,”shewhispered.Andthen,beforeIcouldanswer,shewhisperedagain:“Go,theyarecomingforme.”AndsoIwent,knowingthatIcoulddonomoretohelpherthen,andknowingthatallourschemeswouldbespiltifanyeyespieduponmeasIlaytherebesidetheairshaft.Butmychestwasliketohavesplitwiththedull,helplessanguishthatwasinit,asImademywaybacktomychamberthroughthemazyalleysofthepyramid.
“Donotlookuponmineeyes,dear,whenthetimecomes,”hadbeenherlastcommand,“ortheywilltellatalewhichPhorenice,beingawoman,wouldread.Remember,wemakethesesmalldenials,notforourownlikings,butforAtlantis,whichismothertousall.”
