Still another,—
"The earth trembles!"
A new lightning-flash disclosed the depths of the sky and in them gigantic figures of fire, as it were. The voices were silent, or rather were lost in the whistling of the whirlwind, which sprang up all at once with tremendous force; it swept off a multitude of mantles and kerchiefs, and hurled them away over the height.
Voices cried out anew,—
"The earth trembles!"
Some began to flee. Terror nailed others to the spot; and they stood fixed in amazement, without thought, with this dull impression only,—that something awful was happening.
But, on a sudden, the gloom began to be less dense. Wind rolled the clouds over, twisted and tore them like rotten rags; brightness increased gradually. At last the dark ceiling was rent, and through the opening rushed in all at once a torrent of sunlight; presently the heights became visible and with them the crosses and the terrified faces of the people.
The head of the Nazarene had fallen low on his breast; it was as pale as wax; his eyes were closed, his lips blue.
"He is dead," whispered Antea.
"He is dead," repeated Cinna.