It was a splendid
undertaking, most of it being virgin ground, only I failed. I crossed
the Straits in good order, but came to grief in Eastern Siberia--all
because of Tamerlane is the excuse I have grown accustomed to making."
"A Ulysses!" Mrs. Schoville clapped her hands and joined them. "A
modern Ulysses! How romantic!"
"But not an Othello," Frona replied. "His tongue is a sluggard. He
leaves one at the most interesting point with an enigmatical reference
to a man of a bygone age. You take an unfair advantage of us, Mr. St.
Vincent, and we shall be unhappy until you show how Tamerlane brought
your journey to an untimely end."
He laughed, and with an effort put aside his reluctance to speak of his
travels. "When Tamerlane swept with fire and sword over Eastern Asia,
states were disrupted, cities overthrown, and tribes scattered like
star-dust. In fact, a vast people was hurled broadcast over the land.
Fleeing before the mad lust of the conquerors, these refugees swung far
into Siberia, circling to the north and east and fringing the rim of
the polar basin with a spray of Mongol tribes--am I not tiring you?"
"No, no!" Mrs. Schoville exclaimed. "It is fascinating! Your method
of narration is so vivid! It reminds me of--of--"
"Of Macaulay," St. Vincent laughed, good-naturedly. "You know I am a
journalist, and he has strongly influenced my style.
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