The obscure street was silent. The
chieftain proceeded unmolested. At the corner he found a soldier holding
a charger for his captain. Abidan, unarmed, seized a poniard from the
soldier's belt, stabbed him to the heart, and vaulting on the steed,
galloped towards the river. No boat was to be found; he breasted the
stream upon the stout courser. He reached the opposite bank. A company
of camels were reposing by the side of a fountain. Alarm had dispersed
their drivers. He mounted the fleetest in appearance; he dashed to the
nearest gate of the city. The guard at the gate refused him a passage.
He concealed his agitation. A marriage procession, returning from the
country, arrived. He rushed into the centre of it, and overset the bride
in her gilded wagon. In the midst of the confusion, the shrieks, the
oaths, and the scuffle, he forced his way through the gate, scoured over
the country, and never stopped until he had gained the desert.
The uproar died away. The shouts of warriors, the shrieks of women, the
wild clang of warfare, all were silent. The flames were extinguished,
the carnage ceased. The insurrection was suppressed, and order restored.
The city, all the houses of which were closed, was patrolled by the
conquering troops, and by sunset the conqueror himself, in his hall of
state, received the reports and the congratulations of his chieftains.
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