All at once, above the crowd, far away in the mountains flames arose; the bonfires blazed up on each side of the bay and over the cliffs. An immense blaze, like a giant torch, threw great shadows and blinding streaks of light over the city. Its glow appeared through the night, leaping over space from peak to peak, to the far horizon, where it mingled with the stars.
Helia and Ethel were amazed at the grandeur of the sight, and at the loving ardor of the crowd, in whose eyes, too, the flame seemed burning. Their own beauty struck everybody; surely the new duchess would be the most popular that Morgania had ever known, to judge from the delirious enthusiasm let loose by her presence.
“What has taken hold of them?” thought Helia. “One might say I had done something extraordinary.”
Helia for a moment was separated from Ethel. Beyond them the way, lonely and bare, mounted up to the castle. Guards watched over the approach. High above them the stained-glass window of Morgana reflected glitteringly the torches and bonfires. In a few steps more Helia, on the duke’s arm, would leave the people behind her and mount up, followed by the nobles, to the Hall of Ancestors.
But just then there was a great rush forward, and as Helia, in real fright at this wild enthusiasm, pressed against the duke, she felt a sharp pain between her shoulders. She gave a little cry, and struggled toward the open space before her; but her breath failed and she fell.
“Oh, the coward!” she murmured. “He would never have dared strike me to my face!”
“What is the matter?” the duke said, grasping her in his arms, “you are bleeding!”
“Oh! what has happened?” asked Ethel, who came up at this moment, followed by Suzanne. “Helia! what has happened to you?”
“He has killed me!” said Helia.
“It is he who has done it!” cried Suzanne, with a terrible look, searching for some one in the crowd.