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"And in the middle of the
night!"
"It's nine o'clock, Madam."
"Nine o'clock? Then draw the blinds."
"I've drawn them." She stepped to the window and tapped on the glass
panes by way of confirmation. "All dark outside," she added. "Ashes are
falling from heaven. The volcano is very, very angry."
"Ashes? The volcano? I must dress at once. Light two more candles. No,
three! We can't have three candles burning. Don Francesco may be here
at any moment."
The Duchess often laughingly described herself as "only a weak woman."
A certain number of persons concurred in that opinion. Just then she
was the most self-possessed inhabitant of Nepenthe. The disturbance of
nature left her undisturbed. Her intellect was naturally incurious as
to the habits of volcanoes; her soul, moreover, in good hands, her
conscience in excellent working order, as befitted a potential convert
to Catholicism. She could rely on a spiritual adviser who had instilled
into her mind a lofty sense of obedience and resignation.


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