The gloom decreased in density. Men looked up and beheld a sickly
radiance overhead--it was the sun, ever so far away; it shone as when
seen through thickly smoked glasses. Then a veil seemed to be
withdrawn. The light grew clearer--the song of the penitents jubilant
with hope. Sullen gleams, now, pierced the murky air. Outlines of trees
and houses crept furtively into their old places. The fall of ashes had
almost ceased. With a wrench, as it seemed, the final covering was
drawn away. The land lay flooded in daylight.
That paean of joy and thanksgiving which ought to have greeted this
divine largesse, died on the lips of the beholders when they saw the
state of their island. Nepenthe was hardly recognizable. The Saint had
lifted a mantle from Heaven only to reveal the desolation on earth.
Ashes everywhere. Trees, houses, the fertile fields, the mountain
slopes--all were smothered under a layer of monotonous pallor. They knew
what it meant. It meant ruin to their crops and vineyards. None the
less, they raised a shout, a half-hearted shout, of praise.
Pages:
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480