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The Scapegoat-Part43_Hall Caine(1853-1931)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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and finding Ben Aboo at last, on the spot where he had first seen him,



he rushed in upon him and brought him to the ground. Seeing Ben Aboo

down, the black soldiers fell upon Ali. The brave lad died with a shout



of triumph. "Israel ben Oliel," he cried, as if he thought

that name enough to save his soul and damn the soul of Ben Aboo.



But Ben Aboo was not yet done with his own. The blow that had been aimed

at his heart had no more than grazed his shoulder. "Get up,"



whispered Katrina, half in wrath; and while she stooped to look

for his wounds, her face and hands as seen in the dim light



of the lantern were bedaubed with his blood. At that moment

the guards were crying that the Kasbah was afire, and at the next



they were gone, leaving Katrina alone with the unconscious man.

"Get up," she cried again, and tugging at Ben Aboo's unconscious body



she struck it in her terror and frenzy. It was every one for himself

in that bad hour. Katrina followed the guards, and was never afterwards



heard of.

When Ben Aboo came to himself the patio was aglow with flames.



He staggered to his feet, still grappling to his breast the money-bags

hidden under his selham. Then, bleeding from his shoulder



and with blood upon his beard, he made afresh for the passage leading

to the back alley. The passage was narrow and dark. There were



three winding steps at the end of it. Ben Aboo was dizzy and he stumbled.

But the passage was silent, it was safe, and out in the alley



a sea of voices burst upon him. He could hear the tramp

of countless footsteps, the cries of multitudes of voices,



and the rattle of flintlocks. Lanterns, torches, flares and flashes

of gunpowder came and went at both ends of the long dark tunnel.



In the light of these he saw a struggling current of angry faces.

The living sea encircled him. He knew what had happened.



At the first certainty that his power was gone and that there was nothing

to fear from his vengeance, his own people had gathered together



to destroy him.

There were two small mean houses on the opposite side of the alley,



and Ben Aboo tried to take refuge in the first of them. But the woman

who came with uncovered face to the door was the widow of the mason



who had built his strong-room. "Murderer and dog!" she cried,

and shut the door against him. He tried the other house. It was



the house of the mason's son. "Forgive me," he cried. "I am corrected

by Allah! Yes, yes, it is true I did wrong by your father,



but forgive me and save me." Thus he pleaded, throwing himself

on the ground and crawling there. "Dog and coward," the young man



shouted, and beat him back into the street.

Ben Aboo's terror was now appalling to look upon. His face was that



of a snared beast. With bloodshot eyes, hollow cheeks,

and short thick breath, he ran from dark alley to dark alley,



trying every house where he thought he might find a friend.

"Alee, don't you know me?" "Mohammed, it is I, Ben Aboo."



"See, El Arby, here's money, money; it's yours, only save me, save me!"

With such frantic cries he raced about in the darkness



like a hunted wolf. But not a house would shelter him.

Everywhere he met relatives of men who had died through his means,



and he was driven away with curses.

Meantime, a rumour that Ben Aboo was in the streets had been



bruited abroad among the people, and their lust of blood was thereby

raised to madness. Screaming and spitting and raving,



and firing their flintlocks, they poured from street into street,

watching for their victim and seeing him in every shadow.



"He's here!" "He's there!" "No, he's yonder!" "He's scaling

the high wall like a cat!"



Ben Aboo heard them. Their inarticulate cries came to him laden

with one message only--death. He could see their faces,



their snarling teeth. Sometimes he would rave and blaspheme.

Then he would make another effort for his life. But the whirlpool



was closing in upon him; and at last, like one who flings himself

over a precipice from dizziness, fears, and irresistible fascination,



he flung himself into the middle of the infuriated throng

as they scurried across the open Feddan.



From that moment Ben Aboo's doom was sealed. The people received him

with a long furious roar, a cry of triumphant execration,



as if their own astuteness at length had entrapped him. He stood

with his back to the high wall; the bellowing crowd was before him



on either side. By the torches that many carried all could see him.

Turban and shasheeah had fallen off, and the bald crown of his head






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