Suddenly a thought struck him,--a vivid impression coming from he knew not whence--an idea that he had forgotten a small item of detail in the air-ship which its owner might or might not notice, but which would certainly imply some slight forgetfulness on his part. He glanced at his watch,--it was close on midnight. Acting on a momentary impulse he decided not to wait till morning, but to go at once down to the shed and see that everything in and about the vessel was absolutely and finally in order. As he walked among the perfumed tangles of shrub and flower in his garden, and out towards the sea-shore he was impressed by the great silence everywhere around him. Everything looked like a moveless picture--a study in still life. Passing through a little olive wood which lay between his own grounds and the sea, he paused as he came out of the shadow of the trees and looked towards the height crowned by the Palazzo d'Oro, where from the upper windows twinkled a few lights showing the position of the room where the "master of the world" lay stretched in brainless immobility, waited upon by medical nurses ever on the watch, and a wife of whom he knew nothing, guarding him with the fixed devotion of a faithful dog rather than of a human being. Going onwards in a kind of abstract reverie, he came to a halt again on reaching the shore, enchanted by the dreamy loveliness of the scene. In an open stretch of dazzling brilliancy the sea presented itself to his eyes like a delicate network of jewels finely strung on swaying threads of silver, and he gazed upon it as one might gaze on the "fairy lands forlorn" of Keats in his enchanting poesy. Never surely, he thought, had he seen a night so beautiful,--so perfect in its expression of peace. He walked leisurely,--the long shed which sheltered the air-ship was just before him, its black outline silhouetted against the sky--but as he approached it more nearly, something caused him to stop abruptly and stare fixedly as though stricken by some sudden terror--then he dashed off at a violent run, till he came to a breathless halt, crying out--"Gran' Dio! It has gone!" Gone! The shed was empty! No air-ship was there, poised trembling on its own balance all prepared for flight,--the wonderful "White Eagle" had unfurled its wings and fled! Whither? Like a madman he rushed up and down, shouting and calling in vain--it was after midnight and there was no one about to hear him. He started to run to the Palazzo d'Oro to give the alarm--but was held back--held by an indescribable force which he was powerless to resist. He struggled with all his might,--uselessly. "Morganna!" he cried in a desperate voice--"Morganna!"