determined to tell her the truth, which sooner or later he
would have to disclose.
"Nell," he said, "pull off a glove and drop it, unobserved, on the
ground."
"Why, Stas?"
And he pressed her to himself and answered with a kind of tenderness
unusual to him:
"Do what I tell you."
Nell held Stas with one hand and feared to let him go, but she overcame
the difficulty in this manner: she began to pull the glove with her
teeth, each finger separately, and, finally taking it off entirely, she
dropped it on the ground.
"After a time, throw the other," again spoke Stas. "I already have
dropped mine, but yours will be easier to observe for they are bright."
And observing that the little girl gazed at him with an inquiring look,
he continued:
"Don't get frightened, Nell. It may be that we will not meet your or my
father at all--and that these foul people have kidnapped us. But don't
fear--for if it is so, then pursuers will follow them. They will
overtake them and surely rescue us. I told you to drop the gloves so
that the pursuers may find clews. In the meanwhile we can do nothing,
but later I shall contrive something--Surely, I shall contrive
something; only do not fear, and trust me."
But Nell, learning that she should not see her papa and that they are
flying somewhere, far in the desert, began to tremble from fright and
cry, clinging at the same time close to Stas and asking him amid her
sobs why they kidnapped them and where they were taking them. He
comforted her as well as he could--almost in the same words with which
his father comforted Mr. Rawlinson. He said that their parents
themselves would follow in pursuit and would notify all the garrisons
along the Nile. In the end he assured her that whatever might happen,
he would never abandon her and would always defend her.
But her grief and longing for her father were stronger even than fear;
so for a long time she did not cease to weep--and thus they flew, both
sad, on a bright night, over the pale sands of the desert.
Sorrow and fear not only oppressed Stas' heart, but also shame. He was
not indeed to blame for what had happened, yet he recalled the former
boastfulness for which his father so often had rebuked him. Formerly he
was convinced that there was no situation to which he was not equal; he
considered himself a kind of unvanquished swashbuckler, and was ready
to challenge the whole world. Now he understood that he was a small
boy, with wh
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