Number 187 E-Book

Baroness Emmuska Orczy

• Herausgeber: Al-Mashreq eBookstore
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 28

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Number 187 is a chilling tale of suspense and human fragility, set during the French Revolution when lives were reduced to mere numbers on execution lists. In this short but powerful story, Baroness Orczy paints a haunting picture of an aristocrat condemned to die under the blade of the guillotine. Through desperation, courage, and the faintest spark of hope, the prisoner's fate unfolds with heart-stopping tension. With its blend of atmosphere, drama, and moral weight, Number 187 encapsulates the terror of the Revolution and the resilience of the human spirit, standing as a sharp, emotional precursor to Orczy's later Scarlet Pimpernel adventures.

Leseprobe

Number 187

By: Baroness Emmuska ORCZY

Edited by: Rafat Allam

Copyright © 2025 by Al-Mashreq eBookstore

Published in Pearson's Magazine, January 1899

No part of this publication may be reproduced whole or in part in any form without the prior written permission of the author

Table of Contents

Number 187

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Landmarks

Table of Contents

Cover

Part 1

“187,” shouted the moujik in charge of the division. “Now then, there, 187, why don’t you come when you are called?”

A young man, who had been crouching in a corner by himself, apart from the group of other prisoners, looked up wearily, as the moujik shook him roughly by the shoulder. He was a very young man, almost a boy, not a trace yet of moustache over his finely-cut mouth, his great blue eyes staring straight in front of him, despair—hopeless, abject despair—written on every feature of the young face. The boy rose, and with weary steps followed the moujik across the wide hall, where some fourscore or so men of all ages, and apparently all conditions, were huddled together.

They had all stood their trial—a mockery—and had been condemned wholesale to the mercury mines in Eastern Siberia—the capital punishment practically, but a punishment that sometimes takes three years to complete; a daily, hourly torture, a fight against privations, disease, ignominy, with a felon’s grave as ultimate goal. They were all leaving Moscow on the following day, to begin their weary trudge across miles of arid plains, scantily fed, scantily clothed, perishing by dozens on the wayside through cold and hunger.

And young Count Wladimir Rostopchine was one of these poor wretches. Wealthy, high-born, the idol of St. Petersburg society, he saw himself transformed, after three months imprisonment, into No. 187, one of gang No. 2, en route for Irkutsk on the morrow.

Eh! what would you? He had conspired, at any rate had been sadly mixed up in that last attempt against the life of the Tsar, therefore he must die. Oh, yes! that is inevitable, but not for three years, Count Wladimir, not till you have brought to the surface enough mercury to pay for this gracious prolongation of your existence: after that you may pay your debt to Nature; your death will lie at her door, not at that of the paternal Government of your country.

The moujik, having reached the entrance of the hall, handed over 187 to four cosaques, who, having secured the young man’s wrists with handcuffs, led him through interminable stone passages, dimly lighted by occasional paraffin lamps, to a massive oak door, over which hung a fine wrought-iron bracket that bore the sign: “His Excellency the Governor’s Office.” Hardly had they led their prisoner before this door, when it was opened from the inside, and a voice said:

“Have you brought 187, sergeant?”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

“Bring him in, then, and wait outside with your men, till you are required again.”

The sergeant of cosaques pushed the young man within the room, and left him standing there, while he himself retired, closing the massive doors with a loud bang.