CHAPTER V
DEPARTURE OF THE OLD MAN—DISAPPEARANCE OF DELANCY—TRANSPORTATION OF O’DONELL HIS ARRIVAL AT THE CITY—HIS ARRIVAL AT THE PALACE, AND HIS INTERVIEW WITH HIS CHIEF HE FINDS DELANCY
When the old man had finished his tale, O’Donell and Delancy thanked him for the relation, adding at the same time that they had never heard anything half so wonderful. Then, as it was very late, they all retired to rest. Next morning, O’Donell awoke very early, and, looking round the cave, he perceived the bed of leaves on which the old man had lain to be empty. Then rising he went out of the cave.
The sky was covered with red, fiery clouds, except those in the east whose edges were tinged with the bright rays of the morning sun as they strove to hide its glory with their dark veil of vapours, now all beauty and radiance by the golden lines of light which streaked their gloomy surface beneath this storm-portending sky; and, far off, to the westward rose two tremendous rocks whose summits were enveloped with black clouds rolling one above another with an awful magnificence well-suited to the land of wilderness and mountain which they canopied.
Gliding along in the air between these two rocks was a chariot of light. In the chariot sat a figure the expression of whose countenance was that of the old man, armed with the majesty and might of a spirit.
O’Donell stood at the mouth of the cave watching it till it vanished, and then, calling Delancy, he related the circumstance to him.
Some years after this, Alexander went out one morning in search of the fruit on which they subsisted. Noon came, and he had not returned; evening, and still no tidings of him. O’Donell began to be alarmed and set out in search of him, but could nowhere find him. One whole day he spent in wandering about the rocks and mountains, and in the evening he came back to his cave weary and faint with hunger and thirst. Days, weeks, months, passed away, and no Delancy appeared. O’Donell might now be said to be truly miserable. He would sit on a rock for hours together and cry out: ‘Alexander! Alexander!’ but receive no answer but the distant echoing of his voice among the rocks. Sometimes he fancied it was another person answering him, and he would listen earnestly till it died away. Then, sinking into utter despair again, he would sit till the dews of night began to fall, when he would retire to his cave to pass the night in anguish, broken slumbers, or in thinking of his beloved comrade, whom he could never see more. In one of these dreadful intervals he took up a small parcel. Opening it, he saw lying before him two locks of soft, curly hair, shining like burnished gold. He gazed on them for a little time, and thought of the words of those who gave them to him:
‘Take this then, that you may remember us when you dwell with only the wild beasts of the desert, or the great eagle of the mountain.’
He burst into a flood of tears. He wrung his hands in sorrow, and in the anguish of the moment he wished that he could once more see them and the mighty warrior King, their father, if it cost him his life.
Just at that instant a loud clap of thunder shook the roof of the cave. A sound like the rushing of wind was heard, and a mighty Genius stood before him.
‘I know thy wish,’ cried he with a loud and terrible voice, ‘and I will grant it. In two months’ time thou returnest to the castle, whence thou camest hither, and surrenderest thyself into my power!’
O’Donell promised that he would; and instantly he found himself at the door of the old castle, and in the land of his birth.
He pursued his journey for three days, and on the third day he arrived at the mountain which overlooked the city. It was a beautiful evening in the month of September, and the full moon was shedding her tranquil light on all the face of nature. The city was lying in its splendour and magnificence surrounded by the broad stream of the Guadima. The palace was majestically towering in the midst of it, and all its pillars and battlements seemed in the calm light of the moon as if they were transformed into silver by the touch of a fairy’s wand.
O’Donell stayed not long to contemplate this beautiful scene, but, descending the mountain, he soon crossed the fertile plain which led to the city, and, entering the gates, he quickly arrived at the palace. Without speaking to any one, he entered the inner court of the palace by a secret way with which he was acquainted, and then going up a flight of steps and crossing a long gallery he arrived at the King’s private apartments. The door was half open. He looked in and beheld two very handsome young men sitting together and reading. He instantly recognised them, and was going to step forward, when the door opened and the Great Duke entered. O’Donell could contain himself no longer, and, rushing in, he threw himself at the feet of His Grace.
‘O’Donell! is this you?’ exclaimed the Duke.
‘It is, my most noble master!’ answered O’Donell, almost choking with joy. The young princes instantly embraced him, while he almost smothered them with caresses.
After awhile they became tranquil, and then O’Donell, at the request of the Duke, related all his adventures since he parted with them, not omitting the condition on which he was now in the palace.
When he had ended a loud voice was heard saying that he was free from his promise and might spend the rest of his days in his native city.
Some time after this, as O’Donell was walking in the streets, he met a gentleman whom he thought he had seen before, but could not recollect where or under what circumstances. After a little conversation he discovered that he was Alexander Delancy, that he was now a rich merchant in the city of Paris, and high in favour with the Emperor Napoleon. As may be supposed they both were equally delighted at the discovery. They ever after lived happily in their separate cities; and so ends my little tale.
C. BRONTË, _August 17th_, 1829.
THE ADVENTURES OF ERNEST ALEMBERT
FIRST printed, from the original manuscript, in 1896, in an edition limited to thirty copies for private circulation only. Edited by Thomas J. Wise. This volume contains facsimiles of two pages of the manuscript. Reprinted in _Literary Anecdotes of the Nineteenth Century_, edited by W. Robertson Nicoll, M.A., and Thomas J. Wise, vol. ii., 1896, pp. 47-79.
In the Preface to the privately printed volume we are informed by Mr. Wise, that—
The manuscript of ‘The Adventures of Ernest Alembert’ consists of sixteen octavo pages, measuring 7 1/4 by 4 1/2 inches, stitched in a wrapper of coarse brown paper, with the following title written in Charlotte’s hand upon the front: ‘The Adventures of Ernest Alembert. A Tale by C. Brontë. May 25, 1880.’ The book is written in a free running hand, far more readily deciphered than the minute characters employed in the majority of these early books. Unlike most of these it has no title-page save that on the wrapper, but a large portion of the final page is occupied by an inscription, after the manner of a colophon.
C. W. H.
THE ADVENTURES OF ERNEST ALEMBERT
A TALE BY C. BRONTË
May 25, 1830.