Already, on this bright morn, were the islanders forgetting their terrors of the night. Banks of canal and stream were lined with them, for they of their curiosity, were awaiting what the king would do. Would he obey the voices of the past few days? Would he fulfill his promises to the Unseen? Would the queen show herself when her young charges were to leave?
And now,—here she was! Surely the king was about to make good his promises. With keenest expectation, they waited until the queen should look a little about her. Then, they shouted their love. She, deeply touched, bowed again and again; and smiled rarely.
But, there were no welcoming voices for the king; and the queen felt a culprit that she had received all. Meanwhile, Atlano had affected to be observing the galleys, such affectation giving place to interest until his dark face grew darker. Not long was he in bursting forth:
“Good work was this. And in an hour! Whom didst thou get—of these slow Atlanteans to manage this?”
“Sensel ran much—and helped in the bearing.” The queen’s tone was meekness itself.
“He is the spawn of evil,” vociferated Atlano, regardless who might hear. “And his fitting master is that ‘Silent Priest.’ I tell thee, Atlana, it is they have brought these evils upon us. I am more than ever sure it is their presence that doth anger Amen. Now I again say—and before you all—that Hellen and Æole shall not go. Then for some fine gifts on the altar with the morrow. The gods would thus order! Ha—ha!”
He looked a demon. Queen Atlana became gray in her terror, and clasped Æole to her. Hellen, freeing himself from Electra’s detaining grasp, was about to dart upon him when prevented in a manner as unexpected as appalling.
They were standing on a marble terrace beside a placid stream, beneath a smiling sky, and about them were heard the murmurings of the listening islanders. But, in an instant, came dread change. The sky darkened to blackness; great raindrops splashed down; and a shower succeeded that flooded the terrace in a moment. Further, wildest cries of terror arose from the fleeing islanders seeking cover.
Panic seized upon those on the landing place. They flew down the stairway to the shelter of the larger galley—Atlano leading and helping. Into the withdrawing room they sped, to close the doors, and drop upon the couches.
For full a minute the torrent beat—whilst they sat voiceless, cowering. Then it ceased as suddenly as it had come; and the sun poured its beams with such strength that they began to pant for the air. When the doors were opened, they looked out upon a scene so brilliant that they were obliged to shade their eyes. Never had the sun been as potent thus early.