It was on the eve of that great volcanic
outbreak on the mainland which, by a deadly shower of ashes, destroyed
their crops and impoverished them to such an extent that for three
consecutive months they could barely afford the most unnecessary
luxuries of life. They opined with some show of reason that the little
streamlet had been tempted by ancient and obscure bonds to sympathy to
forsake its old home and creep away, under leagues of shimmering sea,
towards the fiery heart of the volcano; there to undergo some alchemic
process of readjustment, some ordeal, some torrid nuptial rite which
would result in the birth of a flaming monster and the ruin of mankind.
The terrace was crowded with folk; all eyes were turned toward the
distant fire-mountain. But the volcano had never looked so placid, so
harmless, so attractive; its shapely flanks suffused with the crimson
light of evening, while wreaths of violent vapour ascended, in lazy
intermittent spirals, from the cone. They rose into the zenith
playfully, one after the other, as though the volcano were desirous of
drawing attention to its pretty manners, and were wafted onwards, in
delicate wisps of smoke by the persistent South wind.
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