When their first emotion had passed, this rude populace understood full well that Morgana and the beautiful heroine of the Drina must be one of the foreigners come lately from beyond the seas in the white ship. They repeated over to each other how much the country already owed her. Legends began to form about her. They spoke of a coming distribution of food and clothing to the crowd of refugees. One might have thought she had come expressly to fulfil the people’s desire and stir them with new hope. The duke saw all this enthusiasm for the “foreign lady” running onward like a flame; and his heart swelled with joy. A whole people would express his love and speak for him, crying from the depths of their hearts: “We love you! Be our duchess!”
And he, the duke, as he had sworn in presence of his assembled people, would say to Miss Rowrer: “You have saved my country and my son: will you not stay in Morgania, to be the pride and the happiness of my house?”
The events upon the Drina, and that mysterious sympathy which grows in popular crises, had shaken the whole country. The prophecies of the sorceress had been realized point by point. Even in the remotest mountains the shepherds spoke among themselves of this woman, so young and beautiful, who was invulnerable, and whose heroism had repulsed the enemy. The villages were excited; and men reached the city with their rifles on their shoulders. Everywhere, it was one long acclamation for Morgana. The peddlers of pious pictures went here and there with icons in their mules’ harness and singing in her honor heroic prismés. As if every one were waiting for coming events, the mountain tracks and paths across the plain were filled on every side with an enthusiastic crowd.
That very evening the duke was to receive the “duchess” amid his people’s acclaim. Great bonfires were to be lighted on the mountain-peaks at the moment of her disembarking, and from one mountain to the other, by signal from the city, the flames should announce her coming. The sorceress, in the depths of her grotto, should see at her feet the night flaming up like the dawn.
“The peddler of pious pictures”
On the beach, where Morgana had brought the fainting boy, they built up hastily a rough landing-place. They wished her coming to be at the very spot where she had appeared in her glory; and they strewed leaves and flowers along the way which she should follow to the Hall of Ancestors. Never had so violent and sudden a movement upset Morgania. The acclaim which would salute the “Lady” would be irresistible. It would issue from the whole people; and the duke, swept on by a current stronger than himself, would only have to let events find a way for themselves.
Everybody was stirred, even Caracal, who was in the company of the duke, when a cannon-shot, as had been agreed, announced from the castle the arrival of the boat bringing the “duchess.” The crowd stood in rows on each side of the way. The duke, at the head of the body of notables, stood alone.
Behind him the voivodes, in their glittering costume, formed their lines, belted for war and sword in hand.