and saddest of all was that of the young widowed duchess. She also had
laid aside all bright colours, and went about in deepest mourning, only
her eyes, despite the Court orders in regard to sombre hues, were bright
red from weeping.

She would have wished to die that she might not be separated from her
husband, save for a sweet, all-powerful hope which held her to this
world; and the prospect of holy duties, like faint rays of sunshine,
threw their light over her future, which would otherwise have seemed as
dark as the habits of the Court about her.

Thus five long months passed. On the first morning of the sixth month
cannon thundered from the citadel of the capital. One salvo followed
another, making the air tremble, but the firing did not waken the
citizens, for not one of them had closed an eye the foregoing night,
which, according to the oldest inhabitants, had been unprecedented. From
the rocky district on the north shore of the lake, where Misdral lived,
a fearful thunder-storm had arisen, and spread over the city and ducal
palace. There was a rolling and rumbling of thunder and howling of wind,
such as might have heralded the Day of judgment. The lightning had not,
as usual, rent the darkness with long, jagged flashes, but had fallen to
the ground as great fiery balls which, however, had set nothing aflame.
The watchmen on the towers asserted that above the black clouds a silver-
white mist had floated, like a stream of milk over dark wool, and that in
the midst of the rumbling and crashing of the thunder they had heard the
sweet tones of harps. Many of the burghers said that they too had heard
it, and the ducal Maker of Musical Instruments declared that the notes
sounded as if they had come from a fine harpsichord--though not from one
of the best--which some one had played between heaven and earth.