"Patience needs no prophet," said Babbalanja. "The night, is at hand."

Hitherto the lagoon had been smooth: but anon, it grew black, and
stirred; and out of the thick darkness came clamorous sounds. Soon,
there shot into the air a vivid meteor, which bursting at the zenith,
radiated down the firmament in fiery showers, leaving treble darkness
behind.

Then as all held their breath, from Franko there spouted an eruption,
which seemed to plant all Mardi in the foreground.

As when Vesuvius lights her torch, and in the blaze, the storm-swept
surges in Naples' bay rear and plunge toward it; so now, showed
Franko's multitudes, as they stormed the summit where their monarch's
palace blazed, fast by the burning mountain.

"By my eternal throne!" cried Media, starting, "the old volcano has
burst forth again!"

"But a new vent, my lord," said Babbalanja.

"More fierce this, than the eruption which happened in my youth," said
Mohi--"methinks that Franko's end has come."

"You look pale, my lord," said Babbalanja, "while all other faces
glow;--Yoomy, doff that halo in the presence of a king."

Over the waters came a rumbling sound, mixed with the din of warfare,
and thwarted by showers of embers that fell not, for the whirling