"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.