A few rapid strides across
it gained him the shadow of the sea-wall of the Presidio, unchecked and
unhindered. The ebbing tide had left a foot or two of narrow shingle
between the sea and the wall. He crept along this until, a hundred yards
distant, the sea-wall reentered inland around a bastion at the entrance
of a moat half filled at high tide by the waters of the bay, but now a
ditch of shallow pools, sand, and debris. He leaned against the bastion,
and looked over the softly darkening water.
How quiet it looked, and, under that vaporous veil, how profound and
inscrutable! How easy to slip into its all-embracing arms, and sink into
its yielding bosom, leaving behind no stain, trace, or record! A
surer oblivion than the Church, which could not absolve memory, grant
forgetfulness, nor even hide the ghastly footprints of its occupants.
Here was obliteration. But was he sure of that? He thought of the body
of the murdered Peruvian, laid out at the feet of the Council by this
same fickle and uncertain sea; he thought of his own distorted face
subjected to the cold curiosity of these aliens or the contemptuous pity
of his countrymen. But that could be avoided.
Pages:
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188