Потерянный континент: история Атлантиды
7. The Biters Of The Walls (Further Account)
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Withwhichleave-takingIwaitedcoldlytilltheygavememyduesalutation,andthenwalkedoutofthebanqueting-hallwithoutofferingasoulanotherglance.Itookmywaytothegrandgateofthepyramid,calledfortheofficeroftheguard,anddemandedexit.Themanwasobsequiousenough,butheopenedwithsomedemur.
“Mylord’sattendantshavenotyetcomeup?”
“Ihavenone.”
“Mylordknowsthestateofthestreets?”
“Ididtwentyyearsback.Ishallbeabletopickmyway.”
“Mylordmustrememberthatthecityisbeleaguered,”thefellowpersisted.“Thepeoplearehungry.Theyprowlinbandsafternightfall,and—Imakenoquestionthatmylordwouldconquerinafightagainstwhateverodds,but—”
“Quiteright.Icovetnostreetscuffleto-night.Lendme,Iprayyou,asufficiencyofmen.Youwillknowbestwhatareneeded.Forme,Iamaccustomedtoacitywithquietstreets.”
Ascoreofsturdyfellowsweredetailedoffformyescort,andwiththeminadoublefileoneitherhand,Imarchedoutfromthecloseperfumedairofthepyramidintothecoolmoonlightofthecity.Itwasmypurposetomakeatourofthewallsandtofindoutsomewhatofthedispositionoftheserebels.
ButtheGodssawfittogivemeanothereducationfirst.Thecity,asIsawitduringthatnightwalk,wasnolongertheoldcapitalthatIhadknown,thejustaccretionoftheages,thedueadmixtureofcomfortandsplendour.Thesplendourwasthere,vastlyincreased.
