“And when he takes the city, at what a stupendous cost of life. It will be utterly destroyed, with all its people. And we, the Union prisoners, will find our only deliverance through a death by fire.”
And Britomarte sank to her knees, and covered her eyes, and bowed her head, and prayed—not in fear for herself, for she was brave to meet the fire, but in pity for the innocent children, the delicate women, the suffering invalids, and all the helpless and harmless that she thought must go down with the strong and the guilty in this general destruction.
Long and earnestly she prayed to the Lord of Heaven and earth to mitigate the horrors of this most horrible night.
When at length she arose, and looked out upon the burning city, she beheld a scene which, in its sublime terrors, overwhelmed her senses, and brought to her appalled soul the vision of “that dreadful day, that day of wrath,” when the firmament shall melt with a fervid heat, the heavens be rolled together as a scroll, and the sun, moon and stars be blotted out.
The flood of flame rolled and roared on and on with devouring fury; the rain of fire and burning cinders fell thick and blinding as a hailstorm. And the explosion of shells, torpedoes and powder magazines still rent the sky and shook the earth. And the groans and the curses of men, and the shrieks of women and children, filled the air!
Overcome with horror in her weakened condition, she who had often led the charge in person to the very cannon’s mouth, now shrank away, covered her face with her hands, reeled and fell on her prison floor in a deadly swoon.
In a mercifully permitted unconsciousness, she lay for nearly two hours.
When she recovered day had dawned, and the unhallowed glare of the conflagration was fading in the blessed beams of the rising sun.
There were no more explosions. The supposed bombardment seemed to have ceased. And with its cessation, the shower of sparks, and burning cinders, and the whirling storm of fiery missiles had passed away. The flames still raged and roared up into the sky, but they did not seem to spread, and they looked paler and less terrible by daylight. There was still a multitudinous sound of many feet and many tongues in the streets, but the character of these sounds had changed. They were eager, joyous, triumphant!
Stiff and sore, bewildered and confused, she arose and went to the grated window, and looked forth.