EPILOGUE OF EXPLICATION
It was the morning of a white day. The princely banner flew from every tower in Castle Kernsberg, for that day it was to lose a duchess and gain a duke. It was Joan's second wedding-day—the day of her first marriage.
Never had the little hill town seen so brave a gathering since the northern princes laid Henry the Lion in his grave. In the great vault where he slept there was a new tomb, a plain marble slab with the inscription—
"THERESA, WIFE OF HENRY,
DUKE OF KERNSBERG AND HOHENSTEIN."
And underneath, and in Latin, the words—
"AFTER THE TEMPEST, PEACE!"
For strangely enough, by the wonder of Providence or some freak of the exploding powder, they had found Theresa fallen where she had stood, blackened indeed but scarce marred in face or figure. So from that burnt-out hell they had brought her here that at the last she might rest near the man whom her soul loved.
And as they moved away and left her, little Johannes Rode, the scholar, murmured the words, "Post tempestatem, tranquillitas!"
Prince Conrad heard him, and he it was who had them engraven on her tomb.