"Bulwer_Lytton_the_Incantation" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bulwer-Lytton Edward George)

of Asia and Europe the substance exists, but can rarely be met
with. The soil for its nutriment may there be well nigh exhausted.
It is here, where Nature herself is all vital with youth, that the
nutriment of youth must be sought. Near this spot is gold; guide
me to it."

"You cannot come with me. The place which I know as auriferous is
some miles distant, the way rugged. You cannot walk to it. It is
true I have horses, but--"

"Do you think I have come this distance and not foreseen and
forestalled all that I want for my object? Trouble yourself not
with conjectures how I can arrive at the place. I have provided
the means to arrive at and leave it. My litter and its bearers are
in reach of my call. Give me your arm to the rising ground, fifty
yards from your door."

I obeyed mechanically, stifling all surprise. I had made my
resolve, and admitted no thought that could shake it.

When we reached the summit of the grassy hillock, which sloped from
the road that led to the seaport, Margrave, after pausing to
recover breath, lifted up his voice, in a key, not loud, but shrill
and slow and prolonged, half cry and half chant, like the
nighthawk's. Through the air--so limpid and still, bringing near
far objects, far sounds--the voice pierced its way, artfully
pausing, till wave after wave of the atmosphere bore and
transmitted it on.

In a few minutes the call seemed re-echoed, so exactly, so
cheerily, that for the moment I thought that the note was the
mimicry of the shy mocking lyre bird, which mimics so merrily all
that it hears in its coverts, from the whir of the locust to the
howl of the wild dog.

"What king," said the mystical charmer, and as he spoke he
carelessly rested his hand on my shoulder, so that I trembled to
feel that this dread son of Nature, Godless and soulless, who had
been--and, my heart whispered, who still could be--my bane and mind
darkener, leaned upon me for support, as the spoiled younger-born
on his brother--"what king," said this cynical mocker, with his
beautiful boyish face--"what king in your civilized Europe has the
sway of a chief of the East? What link is so strong between mortal
and mortal as that between lord and slave? I transport you poor
fools from the land of their birth; they preserve here their old
habits--obedience and awe. They would wait till they starved in
the solitude--wait to hearken and answer my call. And I, who thus
rule them, or charm them--I use and despise them. They know that,
and yet serve me! Between you and me, my philosopher, there is but
one thing worth living for--life for oneself."