Summary

John Alfred Gray At the Court of the Amîr: A Narrative

We walked from Samander’s khirgar along the paths of the garden to the Palace. The trees were white with snow, and great icicles hung from the branches. The sky was grey, and the water and mud by the paths frozen hard. Everyone looked nipped up in the icy wind. In the far distance to the south were the mountains dimly blue.
In the open space opposite the Palace was a large crowd of people with petitions to offer or disputes to settle. Near at hand was the Amîr’s guard with fixed bayonets.
Source: Gutenberg

John Alfred Gray At the Court of the Amîr: A Narrative

For a man of ordinary intelligence, such as myself, [523] to attempt to analyze the Amîr’s character would be both presumptuous and futile. His intellect, though perhaps more subtile than profound; and his wide knowledge, though more superficial than real, raise him high above those by whom he is surrounded, and by contrast he shines as a brilliant light among the dull flames of his Courtiers. European in appearance, hearty in manner, with a robe of educated civilization, His Highness is Afghan—an Afghan of the Afghans, and perhaps the finest specimen of his race—but yet an Oriental.
Source: Gutenberg

John Alfred Gray At the Court of the Amîr: A Narrative

To see a stranger in the grip of cholera is bad; but to see a man you know, is a horror that catches you in the throat. There were the shrunken features and ashy-grey face of a dreadful ghost of the man I knew. I tried hard to save this man’s life. Visiting him time after time, I made his men do as I said. The look in the eyes of a man when he greets you, feeling the dread phantom loosening its hold and his life coming back to him, is a thing to remember.
The Dabier-ul-Mulk, Chief Secretary to the Amîr, and the man, I suppose, most trusted by His Highness, was seized.
Source: Gutenberg

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature