Suddenly a red light flashed into the room, and at the same moment a peal of thunder, louder than she had ever before heard, clattered over the trembling city. A scream from her women caught her ear, and she started upright on her couch. Aspa had divested her of her upper garment; she wore only her under-dress of white silk. Throwing the falling tresses of her splendid hair back over her shoulder, she leaned on her elbow and listened. There was an awful stillness. Then another flash and another peal. A rush of wind tore open the window of feldspath which looked into the court. Mataswintha stared out at the darkness, which was illuminated at every moment by a vivid flash of lightning. The thunder rolled incessantly, overpowering even the fearful howling of the wind. Mataswintha felt relieved by this strife of the elements. She looked out eagerly. Just then Aspa hurried in with a light. It was a torch, the flame of which was protected from the wind by a glass globe. "Queen, thou--but, by all the gods! how dost thou look? Like a Lemure--like the Goddess of Revenge!" "Would that I were!" said Mataswintha, without taking her eyes from the window. They were the first words that she had spoken for hours. Flash after flash, and peal after peal. Aspa closed the window. "O Queen! the Christian maids say that the end of the world has come, and that the Son of God will come down upon fiery clouds to judge the living and the dead. Oh! what a flash! And yet there is not a drop of rain. I have never seen such a storm. The gods are very angry." "Woe to those with whom they are angry! Oh, I envy the gods! They can love and hate as they like. They can annihilate those who do not adore them." "O mistress! I was in the streets; I have just returned. All the people stream into the churches, praying and singing. I pray to Kairu and Astarte. Mistress, dost thou not pray?" "I curse. That, too, is a kind of prayer." "Oh, what a peal!" screamed the slave, and fell trembling on her knees. The dark blue mantle which she wore slid from her shoulders. The thunder and lightning had now become so violent, that Mataswintha sprang from her couch and ran to the window. "Mercy, mercy!" prayed the slave. "Have pity upon us, ye great gods!" "No, no mercy--a curse upon us miserable mortals! Ha! that was splendid! Dost thou hear how they scream with fear in the streets? Another, and yet another! Ha! ye gods--if there be a God or gods--I envy ye but one thing: the power of your hate and your deadly lightning. Ye hurl it with all the rage and lust of your hearts, and your enemies vanish. Then you laugh; the thunder is your laughter. Ha! what was that!" A flash and a peal of thunder which outdid all that had gone before. Aspa started from her knees. "What is that great building, Aspa? That dark mass opposite? The lightning must have struck it. Is it on fire?" "No, thanks to the gods! The lightning only lit it up. It is the granaries of the King."