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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"Cleopatra"

On! high-throned upon the mane of a
mighty billow--fifty cubits beneath me the level of the hissing waters;
above me the inky sky! It was done! The spar was torn from me, and,
dragged downwards by the weight of the bag of gold and the clinging of
my garments, I sank struggling furiously.
Now I was under--the green light for a moment streamed through the
waters, and then came darkness, and on the darkness pictures of the
past. Picture after picture--all the long scene of life was written
here. Then in my ears I only heard the song of the nightingale, the
murmur of the summer sea, and the music of Cleopatra's laugh of victory,
following me softly and yet more soft as I sank away to sleep.

Once more my life came back, and with it a sense of deadly sickness and
of aching pain. I opened my eyes and saw a kind face bending over me,
and knew that I was in the room of a builded house.
"How came I hither?" I asked faintly.
"Of a truth, Poseidon brought thee, Stranger," answered a rough voice
in barbarous Greek; "we found thee cast high upon the beach like a dead
dolphin and brought thee to our house, for we are fisher-folk. And here,
methinks, thou must lie a while, for thy left leg is broken by the force
of the waves."
I strove to move my foot and could not. It was true, the bone was broken
above the knee.


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