“What is it?” she asked, clasping his arm.
“The sun has gone out,” he announced.
A groan escaped her lips and she swayed into Thorndyke's arms.
“The clouds are thinning over the sun, yet there is no light. The king is excited; he fears a panic!”
“Has such a thing never happened?” asked Thorndyke.
“An hundred years ago; then thousands lost their lives. As soon as the people suspect the cause of the delay they will go mad with fear.”
“What can we do?” asked the princess, recovering her self-possession.
“Nothing, wait!” replied Tradmos. “This is as safe a place as you could find. Perhaps the trouble may be averted. Look!”
The disk of the veiled sun was aglow with a faintly trembling light; but it went out. The silence was profound. The populace seemed unable to grasp the situation, but when the light had flickered over the black face of the sun once more and again expired, a sullen murmur rose and grew as it passed from lip to lip.
It became a threatening roar, broken by an occasional cry of pain and a dismal groan of terror. There was a crash as if a mountain had been burst by explosives.