THE STORM AND THE FLOOD.
Meanwhile, the good Padré and his sister, having been ferried over
the river, as already mentioned, and their litters removed from the
boats, looked around in amazement at the wild and impressive scene
before them. High above, the fantastic rocks of the gloomy fortress
towered majestically, and bastion after bastion revealed itself
among them, glowing in the rising sun, and by its ruddy beams bereft
awhile of their actual grimness. Below, the small village, with its
half-ruined walls, seemed astir; for cattle and goats issued from the
gate enveloped in clouds of dust, attended by shepherds, who drove them
forth to graze on the level ground at the lower point of the island.
A company of women, with bright water-pots on their heads, were going
for water, and some people had collected in groups to watch the unusual
sight of the strangers' arrival. Among them were some of the Governor's
attendants, to one of whom the officer from Moodgul explained who the
priest and his sister were, and, delivering his letters, bade the Padré
a courteous farewell, and proceeded to return; while the attendant,
after a few civil questions, bidding the litters to be taken to a
shady spot under some tamarind trees, accompanied the party.
"Can you tell me where the Dervish, who lives here, resides?" asked the
priest of the man, who appeared civil.
"Certainly," he replied, "it is close by. Come with me and I will call
him."
Zóra answered to the summoner, and the priest, taking off his hat,
saluted her. He could not help being struck with the extreme beauty of
the girl. "Can you speak Canarese?" he asked, "for I have a letter here
for your father."
"He is my grandfather," she said, modestly, "but if you will give me
the letter I will read it for him, for he is blind." Then the girl
retired with it, and in a few minutes returned, leading the old man by
the hand, saying, "Abba, this is the Padré Sahib; speak to him."
"You are welcome, Sir, to my poor house, in the name of the God we both
worship, and in the name of Jesus and his mother. Your friend, the
Nawab, asks me to give you shelter for a few days, and I do so with
pleasure. My house is your own, if you can put up with scant room and
such attendance as we can supply; my child, Zóra, must be your hostess.
Where is your sister?"
"Close by," said the priest, "under the trees; I will bring her to you."
"Maria," he said, as he opened the curtain of the litter, "I have
seen the old Dervish, who is kind and hospitable. He has offered us
shelter, as the Nawab said he would; and he has one of the brightest
and sweetest-looking of grandchildren, whose very smile will cheer you.
Come! I will see to our baggage and dismiss our escort."
"O gentle lady!" cried Zóra, clapping her hands and advancing to greet
her guest as she passed the threshold, "surely thou art as beautiful
as an angel;" and the girl's face was expressive of her wonder and
admiration.
Her large, liquid eyes were dilated to the full; her lips open,
showing her white glistening teeth; and her first look of amazement
had expanded into a beaming smile as she stretched forth her arms to
embrace her guest. Nor was Maria slow to express her confidence, and
took Zóra in her arms and held her to her heart in a warm embrace.
"I shall be a trouble to you," she said, "and I cannot speak Persian
like my brother."
"But you speak my own language, you speak Canarese, lady, like a
Brahmin; but see, there is my grandfather, he would welcome you, too."
"Would that I had eyes to see thee, lady; but thou art welcome truly,"
said the old man kindly, and feeling in the air for his guest.
"Let him put his hand on thy head, lady," said Zóra, "'tis that he
wishes to do;" and she guided her grandfather's hand to Maria's head.
"May God and the Holy Mother of Jesus keep thee, my child," he said
reverently. "If thou art in trouble, or pain, or grief, thou wilt find
peace in this poor house, and Zóra will love thee, and watch thee. That
soft silky hair of thine is not of Hind, but of Europe, and thou wilt
tell me of thy sweet country."
Maria had removed her hood, and her fair, silky hair was clustering
about her neck and shoulders. She had never looked more lovely than at
this moment; the rich complexion glowing with excitement and pleasure;
her fair white throat rising out of her kerchief of fine white muslin,
as she stooped down to receive the old man's blessing of welcome; and
as he put Zóra's hand into hers, he said, "Take her, and guide her, for
she is alone."
"Come, lady!" said Zóra, "I will show thee where thou wilt live. Long
ago, they say, my grandmother and my mother lived there; but the place
is too large for me alone, and my old servant and I live in a room
apart, near my grandfather. Come and see!"
They passed through a room, which was used as a kitchen, and entered a
small court, which had low cloisters all round, from which doors opened
to apartments within. The whole was small, but exquisitely neat and
pure; and in the centre was a plot in which were some purple amaranths,
marigolds, and other common flowers, and some bushes of several kinds
of jessamine.
"These are my flowers," she said, "and I love them so; and yonder is
a vine, which gives us grapes in the cool weather; and one fig-tree,
which shades me from the sun; and I love to sit here and read, and feed
my pigeons and the birds that come to me. And they know me so well
now, even the parrots and mynas, though they are wild. Coo! coo!" she
cried, raising her voice, as a flock of beautiful pigeons flew in, and
alighting, pressed round her. "They belong to the mosque, you know,
lady, and no one molests them."
"Call me Maria now," said the lady. "There should be no veil or
restraint between us."
"But I am only a poor orphan," she said.
"As I am also," Maria returned, sadly, "and a widow, too."
"Thou a widow, and so young and so beautiful?" said the girl. "May I
love thee, and serve thee? See! the pigeons are not afraid of thee, nor
am I."
"We will love each other," said Maria, gently stroking the girl's head.
"And if we stay----"
"Oh, you will not depart," said Zóra, pitifully, "and leave me alone
again! I have seen you only to love you, and without you all would be
dark. I have had no world but this to live in, and I was happy; but now
you are come from a far country, and brought with you a joy my heart
has never known. Ah, yes, the Mother Mary would not take you away from
Zóra! And now see," she continued more gaily, "here are your brother's
rooms, and a door to go out by to the mosque, if he wishes, and
whithersoever he pleases; and a room for your servants, which can be
your kitchen. No one will come near you, and you can do as you please."
The apartments were indeed ample for all purposes, and when the
priest had got up their few possessions, and the two old servants,
Pedro and Joanna, had arranged them and their own, the rooms lost the
bare, uninhabited look they had had at first, and became cheerful
and comfortable. Zóra's old servant had prepared an ample repast of
omelette and kicheri, to which the travellers did justice after their
night journey.
The morning had been oppressively hot, and indeed all day the sun's
rays had beaten down upon the narrow valley and its bare granite
rocks with an intensity of heat hardly supportable, yet the court had
remained refreshingly cool. In the evening, however, the radiation
from the rocks increased the heat, and the brother and sister betook
themselves to the terrace of the court and looked around them. Heavy
clouds were gathering overhead, and flashes of lurid sheet lightning
every now and then seemed to spring from their depths and rush across
the sky, lighting up the grim fort for an instant, and again leaving
all darker than before. Low mutterings of thunder came down the ravine,
accompanied by fitful gusts of wind, which again ceased, and all was
still; but the darkness grew more intense, till not even the fort or
the rocks could be seen.
Maria was no coward of the elements, and she and her brother watched
the sublime progress of the storm which was evidently approaching, with
intense interest, hardly speaking. A few large plashing drops of rain
fell on them, and warned them to retire, but they only rose and gazed
around. The low moaning of the cataract above came down in the still
silence, and the river murmured with a kind of measured plash among the
rocks; there was not a breath of wind to stir the flame of the small
lamp which burned below, and the very suspense was fearful.
Suddenly a heavy shower fell, with an almost sulphurous odour, forcing
them to retire, when, and as if that had been the signal, a stream
of forked lightning burst from the clouds which hung, as it were,
immediately over their heads, illuminating in a ghastly manner the
fort, the town, the river, and hills beyond; yet but for an instant
only, one which was never forgotten, for thunder crashed above them.
Peal after peal broke over the ravine of the fort, and was re-echoed
among the rocks and wild hills with tremendous and deafening roar,
which for a time was almost continuous.
Brother and sister performed their evening devotions, thankful for
the shelter they enjoyed; and when Francis had withdrawn to his
room, Maria sat long, meditating over the events at Moodgul and their
consequences, grateful for having escaped violence, the cause of which,
but for Dom Diego's uncontrollable passion, she would not have been
aware; thankful, too, for shelter in their trouble to both.
Whether they were to be prisoners, or whether guests, she knew not;
but at least they had found friends who seemed real and sincere, and
anything, even a prison, would be welcome rather than the ordeal of the
Inquisition, or the dangers of her own once happy home. What the end
might be, whither she might be led, she had no thought, for all the
future was dark; but she could rest her hopes on Jesus and his Holy
Mother, and in sure faith in both, she knelt down before her crucifix
and prayed fervently.
As she prayed she heard the door open softly, and amidst a glare of
lightning which soon ceased, the terrified face of Zóra appeared,
pale and anxious. "Forgive me," she cried, as she entered, "but I was
frightened by the thunder and lightning, and have come to thee. Abba
sleeps soundly, and I was alone; may I stay here with thee till the
storm is past?"
"Thou art welcome, child," said Maria, gently; "lie down on my little
bed, and I will be with thee presently. It is truly a fearful night,
but God protects us. When I have finished my prayer I will come to
thee."
Then Zóra lay down, and covered herself closely at first, but now and
again peered out, her large eyes distended with wonder as she watched
the Christian lady's simple devotions. "She prays," she thought, "and
yet men say Christians are godless and infidel; but they are false and
wicked who say so."
After a little while Maria rose, combed out her silky hair, divested
herself of her upper garments, and after her usual ablution, kissed the
child, and lay down beside her; and though the thunder still roared and
the lightning flashed, sleep came to them as they lay locked in each
other's arms: thus they rested peacefully, while the thunder clouds
passed away down the river to the east, dispensing their cooling and
fertilising influences far and wide, and the stars shone out with
a dewy brilliance over the fort, the river, and the ever-moaning
cataract. It was the opening of the monsoon.
In the early morning they awoke. Zóra raised herself on her arms, and
looked with earnest eyes on her companion. "How beautiful thou art,
Maria," she said, as she smoothed the soft hair from her brow; "and how
fair, and thy cheek like a pale Oleander flower. Alla pity thee, and
protect thee!"
"I have rested well," said Maria, smiling; "I do not think we awoke
for all the thunder, and now 'tis calm and fresh. When it is time, if
thou wilt, we will go abroad for awhile. I am used to do so, alone at
Moodgul, for I had many sick people to look after who expected me. Thou
art not afraid?"
"Oh, no!" returned the girl. "I, too, have sick people in the village,
and I will show them to thee. I am not afraid, and everyone is kind to
me, even the rough soldiers salute me; and I had such sweet dreams,
Maria. Angels of Paradise seemed to be tending me, and there were
flowers around me, and all because I lay in thy arms like a child."
"Would thou wert a child of hers, Zóra," and Maria pointed to a little
picture she had hung beneath the crucifix; "but go now, and when thou
art ready come for me. See, there is my old servant to help, and I will
not delay. And how hast thou passed the night, Joanna?" she asked. "A
good day to thee."
"We barely slept," said the old dame, in the broken snuffling
Portuguese spoken by the lower orders of Goa. "We shut the door, and
the lightning would come in, whether or no. It used to be bad at Goa,
but this seems worse; the saints help us. How are we to get away from
this terrible place, where the rocks seem ready to fall on us and crush
us, and the fort looks like a gloomy prison? Yet thou hast a smiling
face, Señora; dost thou not fear?"
"No," said Maria, "I dread nothing; and these new friends, whose guests
we are, seem truly kind; why should we fear?"
"No, mistress, the house is well enough, I allow. There is a
bathing-place for thee inside, and I have water ready, and the
cocoa-pot is simmering, and----"
"But where is my brother; hath he not risen, Joanna?"
"Oh, yes!" returned the dame; "he rose about daylight, for a soldier
came from the fort and said the Governor wished to see him before the
sun was hot, and he thought it best to go, so he went with the men--for
there were several--and said he would be back as soon as he could, and
you were not to be anxious, for the messengers said he was to come
without apprehension, for he would be taken care of, and sent back."
But notwithstanding Joanna's assurance, a thought of possible treachery
and a dungeon floated into Maria's mind. Yet she remembered the civil
messages of the day before, and the ample allowance for maintenance
which had accompanied them.
"And there is plenty to eat, Señora," continued the dame, when she
brought the cup of warm cocoa, after Doña Maria had bathed, "plenty.
There are two lambs and many fowls, and rice, and butter, and spices,
and flour, salt, and cocoa nuts, and coffee, and sugar, and sugar
candy, and plantains, and eggs, and----"
"Enough, enough!" cried Maria, laughing outright; "why there is more
than we could eat in a month, Joanna."
"And the man told Pedro that this was to be the daily allowance, and he
would bring it every morning. He is a Brahmin scribe, I think, for he
had a pen stuck into his turban. I will bring him to you when he comes,
and you or the Señor can tell him what you please; and when you come
in, a good breakfast will be ready for you and the master, I can tell
you."
"I am troubled to hear about all the food that has been sent us by the
kind Governor," said Maria to her young friend, when Zóra entered.
"What are we to do with it?"
"You can give it to the poor if you can't eat it all, lady," replied
the girl. "It is because you are great people that the Nawab has sent a
feast for you, and you will get it every day. Ah! he is rich, and the
Government is rich, and will never miss it; but come, the Señor is gone
up to the fort to see him, and we may meet him as he returns."
So they went out towards the village. The sun was rising veiled in
clouds, which, as the remainder of the storm, lay in a dark bank
far behind the distant hills which bounded the horizon. The slight
breeze was fresh and cool, the rocks glistened, wet as they were, in
the light, all the birds--mynas, paroquets, and others--flew about,
chattering and calling to each other, and there was a clearness and
transparency of the air which revealed rock and tree, hill and ravine,
with far greater distinctness than on the previous day when they had
arrived. How beautiful it all seemed to Maria.
"And what is that sound I hear?" she asked of her companion; "sometimes
it is loud, sometimes a low murmur. Is it the river?"
"Yes," replied the girl, "it is the river. Not far above, the water
falls over a great rock as high as the hill yonder, with a terrible
foam and clamour, and you can see it from yonder bastion. It is not
far from here, and I often go there when the water is in flood to look
at it."
"Alone!"
"Oh, yes, alone! I am only Zóra, and no one minds me. Sometimes one
of the soldiers we know, Ahmed, comes with me if he sees me, and says
I ought not to go alone, and tries to frighten me about the panther
which sometimes comes here; but I never saw one. Now here we are in the
village, what do you think of it?"
It was a poor place; the main street contained a few shops where grain
and flour, butter and spices, were sold, and some of the soldiers of
the garrison were grouped about them, most of whom saluted the two
girls civilly enough. The rest of the houses belonged to weavers and
cultivators who had fields at the end of the island, or had lands
across the river, which, except in the highest floods, they could
cross at any time on their floats of gourds. Many of the houses were
comfortable and in good order, and their dames standing at their doors
were well clad, and welcomed them with kindly greeting.
We will not follow the companions on their little tour. Zóra had
several sick people to visit, chiefly women and children; but it was
easy to see how much she was beloved by all. Maria was soon at her
ease among them; her sweet face, the softness of her manner, and the
perfection with which she spoke the Canarese tongue, charmed and
affected many deeply. Indeed, most of them knew her and her brother
by report, and some had even seen them when they went to the Moodgul
fair. To some Maria promised her own medicines, and invited others to
come and tell their ailments to her brother, for the medicine chest
had not been forgotten, and long practice and reading had made Francis
d'Almeida a skilful physician.
They were returning through the little bazaar, when Maria heard her
brother's voice calling, as it were, from above, "Maria! Maria!" The
sound seemed in the air, and on looking up she saw him descending by a
steep pathway. "Wait!" he cried, and was presently with them. He told
them that though he had obeyed the Nawab's summons with some misgiving,
yet he had been received kindly and courteously; and though he might be
delayed a short time till instructions arrived regarding him, he must
remain at his ease without apprehension, and that the whole fort was
free to him to come and go as he pleased. "And it is the most wonderful
place you ever saw, sister," he continued. "The view up the ravine of
the river is glorious; and though there is not water enough now to
fill the cataract, it is still surprisingly beautiful, and I will take
thee to see it some day. The Nawab has a guest, too, a cousin, in whom
I am much interested. He is suffering from some delusion, which, I
think, I can remove by tonics, and he is to come to me this evening to
consult with me. He was wounded, too, in some battle, but the wound is
very nearly healed. I will put a simple dressing on it, and he will
be fit to travel in a week. I was much interested in him, for he is a
brave and modest youth, with a stamp of greatness about him which the
Nawab lacketh, who is altogether of a coarse type; but he was kind
nevertheless. I have enjoyed the climb and walk greatly, Maria, and am
hungry for my breakfast;" and they passed on.
At the entrance to his dwelling their venerable host met them, with
anxious inquiries about their health and comfort; and Zóra told him
how they had already visited her sick folk, and how the Señora had won
all hearts, and the children hung about her; and as the old man was
praising her, Maria simply said,
"I am vowed to good works, and have renounced the world, Sir. This is
only my daily care, to be fulfilled wherever I may be; and it rejoices
me to find Zóra so efficient a guide. The people all love her, and so
do I already."
"Nor will she fail you, lady," returned the Dervish. "She is the light
of these sightless eyes now, and is all that is left to me on earth.
But go, you will be hungry. I only hope you and your good brother have
all you need."
He said this with a combined dignity and courtesy which struck Maria
forcibly. "Surely he is no ordinary Fakeer," she thought; "perhaps some
great person who, weary of the world, has taken refuge here, and Zóra,
I dare say, will tell me."
It was in the afternoon when Zóra came into Maria's room, where she
was busy copying some of her brother's translations. "Come," she said,
"there is no sun, and we can walk to the bastion. I know a short way by
a postern; and Ahmed is here and will go with us, and your brother will
come also."
"Yes, he will come, and it will be so pleasant to have a stroll with
him; we always go out together."
"We must not be long away," he said, "for I expect the Nawab's cousin
at sunset, and would not fail him."
"No! we need not even be so long. They say the panthers come out as the
sun goes down," said Zóra, laughing gaily, "but we never met any of
them, did we, Ahmed?"
The bastion could not be seen from where they were below, and they
followed a path behind one of the curtain walls of the fort; but as
they got round a shoulder of the hill the ascent grew steeper, and
turning a corner of the wall the bastion stood before them. It was
built on a high, isolated rock, one side of which could be ascended by
steps that rose from the ground. The rock completely shut out the view
up the ravine, and the curtain wall that of the river; but they could
hear it roaring and dashing against the rocks far below. It was evident
that the whole ravine above could be seen from the bastion, and Zóra,
leading the way, bounded fleetly up the steps.
"There," she cried, helping Maria up the last one; "look! but the rocks
are not half covered with water."
The wildness of the scene before her, and its extreme beauty, caused
Maria to start back and almost feel dizzy; but Zóra held her by the
hand. "Do not tremble," she said, leading her up a small circular
platform on which there was a long iron swivel gun placed. "Sit down on
the gun here, and shut your eyes, as I do, then you will not tremble
when you open them."
Maria followed the girl's advice, and waited for a few moments; then
she looked out. The gun was raised some feet above the parapet of
the bastion, and the view around was completely clear. The stream
dashed against the foot of the rocks, more than a hundred feet below,
rebounding among other rocks in its bed, throwing up waves and spray,
and rushing down the gorge with violence.
Above, to the left hand, she could see where the hill was cut in two
by the point of the island, which ascended nearly perpendicularly for
hundreds of feet; but of all, the bed of the river above the fall, the
sides of the ravine, and the huge cataract itself at the end were the
most impressive. Maria sat in a sort of trance, unable, for several
minutes, to speak, clasping Zóra's hand as the girl nestled to her.
Zóra said, "Is not that God's power? I thought you would not speak. I
can hardly breathe sometimes when the flood comes down. Ah!" she cried,
with a half shriek, "look, it is coming; but do not be afraid, we are
quite safe here. It is last night's rain."
Maria looked up to the crest of the fall, which, such was the clearness
of the air, seemed to be quite close. She saw a swell of water
gradually rising over it. It appeared to move slowly at first, but as
the momentum and the body of water increased in volume, it dashed down
the rocks with irresistible fury and velocity, foaming, sending up
clouds of spray, and roaring with a sound deeper than thunder.
Gradually the whole of the crest was covered by the flood which,
pausing as it were in the great pool below, now rolled in majestic
force down the ravine in a seemingly compressed column, rising every
moment. The effect of this huge mass of water in the comparatively
confined space was very singular, and almost indescribable, for it
appeared to grow in height every moment, and, thundering down before
them, to look almost as if it would overwhelm them; but there was a
fascination in the superb sight that was irrepressible as the torrent
came on, its crest feathered with white foam, while it seemed to lick
up the huge rocks and boulders in the bed, to rush into the hollows
of the ravine sides in furious waves, and gradually to fill the whole
gorge with tumult.
Presently they saw the foremost wave strike against the base of the
fort and divide, the chasm beneath them becoming filled by the torrent.
"The flood seems rising up to us, doesn't it?" cried Zóra, clapping
her hands; "that's what I like to feel, sister; but it could not, you
know, we could escape up there;" and she pointed to the rocks above,
"and the good Alla would not let it carry us away. But what is that?
Ahmed, Ahmed! what is that?" and with wide distended eyes she looked
at a spot on the side of the hill, only a little distance from them,
pointing at the same time, "What is that?"
A panther had crept out from its den under a rock, and after stretching
itself, yawned and gave a slight growl, then looked about warily, and
seeing the group on the bastion, crouched as if to spring.
"If I had but brought my gun," said Ahmed in a whisper. "Do not notice
the brute, he will not attack us. Oh! if I had but my gun."
Almost as he spoke a shot was fired from behind a bush at a short
distance, which stood near one of the zigzag paths which led up the
ascent. The panther staggered for a moment, then sank to the ground
with a scream, and falling, rolled down the steep bank below him on to
the pathway, quite dead.
"A good shot! well fired!" exclaimed Ahmed, as he prepared to descend
the steps from the bastion, while a voice cried from above, "Take care,
Ahmed! take care! he may not be dead!" But Ahmed hurled down a large
stone, followed by several others, which hit the carcase; but it did
not move, and he cried to the man above, "Come down, it is quite dead."
Then a small party emerged from the position they had taken up behind
some rocks, which consisted of the Nawab and his cousin, and several
attendants.
"We saw you from above," said the Nawab, saluting the Padré
courteously, "but we did not like to disturb you. May we come down?"
"I do not like him," said Zóra, clinging to Maria; "he always looks at
me when I chance to meet him, and his eyes are evil. Let me be near
you. Oh that he would go away. Why does he intrude upon women?"
But Osman Beg and his companion, after inspecting the dead animal,
ascended the steps and were soon among the little party.
He did not address Maria, but saluted her courteously; and of Zóra he
took no notice, save by some furtive glances from time to time.
"It is well we came down by the path yonder, or that brute might have
alarmed your sister," he said to the Padré; "but it is fortunate for
me that I have the unexpected pleasure of seeing her. Perhaps she will
accept the claws of the panther in memory of this incident; they make a
pretty necklace, and shall be cleaned and sent to her. I cannot dare to
ask her to my poor house, but she has seen the flood from here, which
is grand to-day."
"It is, indeed, wonderful," replied Francis, curtly. He did not like
the manner with which the Nawab regarded his sister. "But we cannot
stay now, it grows late. May we depart?"
"Nay, Señor, it is I that should depart, and leave you to enjoy
yourselves; but my cousin has promised a visit to you, Sir, and the
Dervish, and he will accompany you, if you have no objection, with two
or three men, in case more panthers may be abroad. So I will take my
leave of you, Señor; may you reach your house safely." And, descending
the steps, they watched him ascend the path by which he had come.
Abbas Khan, though he had not seen Zóra since his night of delirium,
yet remembered her perfectly, and his eyes beamed with delight.
"It was such a flood as this when I was brought across this torrent,
wounded and sick almost to death," he said very quietly to Zóra. "Hast
thou forgotten it? It was thy face then that I saw as an angel's, who
gave me cool sherbet of Persia; and I would have come to thank thee
and the old man, but I was too weak till now. Dost thou remember?" he
added, after a short pause; and as she did not speak, "I remember thy
name--Zóra, is it not?"
"I have not forgotten," she said, looking up to him timidly with her
soft eyes, and then casting them to the ground; "I remember all, and we
thought thou wouldst have died."
"I have no remembrance save of thee, Zóra," he continued, tenderly;
"only an angel seemed to visit me, and soothe me. Then Runga Naik
came, and ... but it is all a dream, for I knew little more till I was
taken to the palace, where I have since been, except that an old man
with a long white beard visited me often, and a servant brought food.
Where wert thou?"
But she did not reply.
"Come, then," he said to the Padré; "come, the evening draws in; and,
as my cousin says, we may perchance see more panthers;" and after a
lingering look around her, Maria rose, and followed Zóra down the
steps, for the continuous roar and turmoil of the waters oppressed her.
Almost at the foot of the steps lay the dead panther, its glossy skin
flecked with blood stains, and its eyes glaring and glassy. The claws
had been cut off, but the skin was perfect. "'Twill make a good carpet
for Abba," he said to Zóra, "and I will send some men to skin it
presently."