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The Prime Minister

Page 61

by William Henry Giles Kingston

shoulder, unconscious of all that had occurred--of the fearful destruction which was going forward. Her last thoughthad been of him, as she saw him borne away by his maddened steed;--sheheard not the wild cries which rose from below, or the shrieks whichechoed through the building, or the voice of a friend, calling on her tofly. Her love had preserved her; and they were together, as yetunharmed; and Luis felt (if thought or feeling could be possible at sucha moment) that no power could divide them. The same fate awaited themboth, but instant destruction seemed to threaten them. If the wallsstood, within the recess they might be safe; but already were thoseshaken to their foundations--another shock, and they must inevitablyfall. Such was his rapid idea, as he was raising Clara. Again heturned to fly with her to seek for safety; but where was safety to befound, when the earth itself was lifted, like the ocean's billows, fromits level? Still there was happiness and confidence at his heart.Though so many examples were before his eyes, he imagined not the fatewhich might be theirs. Onward he bore her, by the way he had come,along the broad corridor. For some time his course was unimpeded, till,at length, a vast chasm yawned before him: the whole wall had fallendown, crushing all beneath it. Once more he turned, with his preciousburden, still unconscious, in his arms: more than human strength andenergy seemed afforded him. Another corridor presented itself, thefloor yet affording a passage, though crowded with fragments of theroof. As he flew along it, he observed a stair on one side: that mightlead to some egress. He descended rapidly, though scarce a gleam oflight was there to guide his steps. When he reached the bottom, hefound a passage, narrow and vaulted, leading off on each side. He tookthat to the left, where the light appeared; but, as he approached it, astrongly-barred window was seen. Near him, a door was left open, at thetop of a second narrow and winding stair. Whither that would lead therewas no time to consider; but retreat was hopeless by the way he hadcome, and his only hope of saving the life of the dear being he bore wasin onward progress. He descended the steps: to what secret chambers hadthey conducted him? Another door was before him--it gave way to histouch, and he found that they had reached a low, narrow, and vaultedpassage. That it led to the open air he felt assured, from the greaterdegree of light before him; but the dust prevented his seeing many feetbeyond where they were. He hastened on, when again a terrific sound washeard, like the loud echoes of cannon in a mountain gorge--the earthshook beneath his feet--a stunning crash was more felt than heard, as ifthe globe had been hurled in contact with another body--the strong wallson each side seemed giving way--huge masses of the building, falling onall sides, blocked up all egress in front,--behind, all was darkness!Nature could endure no more: his legs refused to support him, and hesank with his precious burden to the ground; yet consciousness did notforsake him, and he preserved her from injury, bending over her yetinanimate form, that he might shield her to the last, and that his headshould be the first to receive the blow which he felt assured must fall.The second violent shock was over, yet crash after crash continued tobe heard, as each massive wall and lofty tower, which man in his pridehad fancied would last for ever, were overturned like pasteboard fabricsraised by childhood's hands. A third time was the loud thunder beneaththe earth heard--the ground shook, and the few remaining walls of theconvent were cast down, and that vast fabric, which, a few minutesbefore, had stood firm and entire, was now one shapeless mass of ruins,with hundreds of human beings buried beneath it. The anguish of deathcame over Luis: Clara--his own Clara, lay, without breathing, in hisarms. Her pulse had ceased to beat, animation had fled, and he welcomeddestruction as a boon from Heaven. Each instant the end of all thingsseemed about to arrive; the shrieks of despair, which had before wrungon his ears, were hushed; the thundering crashes of the fallingbuildings were no longer heard; and the more terror-inspiring mutteredroar beneath the earth had ceased; but foul exhalations arose, andpoisoned the air, already filled with suffocating dust; and darkness,impenetrable and oppressive, surrounded the lovers.

  Volume 2, Chapter X.

  Were we to indulge, while describing scenes like the present, in thelight jest, or stroke of satire, we should deem ourselves equallycapable of laughing at the anguish and wretchedness to which, in ourcourse through life, we have too frequently been witness; our readersmust, therefore, pardon us, if, on this occasion, contrary to theirwish, we lay aside that inclination we have hitherto experienced, tosatirise the follies and wickedness of our fellow-men. It will be ourduty to revert to the events which occurred to the principal personagesmentioned in this history.

  We left the bridal party at the palace of the Marquis d'Alorna. Theywere assembled in a handsome saloon, which looked towards the street,while all were paying their compliments to the lovely Donna Theresa, andtheir congratulations to the young marquis, on his happiness atpossessing so fair a bride, when a train of carriages was heard passing.

  "It is the King and the royal family, on their road to Belem," said theConde d'Atouquia. "They were to go there this morning."

  "I would they were never to return!" muttered the Duke of Aveiro. "Itwould be no great loss to us."

  "Hush! duke," said the Count, who had just sufficient sense to know thatsilence will often stand in the place of wisdom. "All here know nottheir own interests. 'Twill be better not to speak on that subjectawhile."

  When the lovely bride heard the King mentioned, a pallor overspread hercountenance.

  "Are you ill, my Theresa," inquired her young husband, affectionately.

  "Oh no, 'twas a sudden pain, but I am well again," she answered,recovering, and endeavouring to smile. She could not say it was thedreadful struggle between conscience and inclination which agitated her.

  The guests had just taken their seats at a sumptuous breakfast, preparedfor the occasion, the bridegroom being placed at the head of the table,when that strange sound of chariot-wheels was heard.

  "'Tis the King, for some cause, returning home again," exclaimed one.("'Tis the King of Terrors, riding on the whirlwind of destruction," hemight, more properly, have said.)

  "No, 'tis a sudden blast, or the roaring of the breakers against therocks of St. Julian," answered another.

  "Mother of Heaven! see, the glasses tremble!" cried several.

  At that moment the noise increased. "An earthquake! an earthquake!"shrieked the guests, rushing from their seats towards the window.

  The building shook, but scarce a stone fell. "'Twill be over soon,"exclaimed the Marquis of Tavora, preserving his presence of mind."There is more danger in the street than here."

  The wildest dismay was visible in the countenances of all, yet nonesought to fly, but rushed together towards the recesses of the windows,fancying that numbers might cause security.

  "Fear not, my friends," said the Marquis d'Alorna, "this palace isstrong, and has resisted many an earthquake. It will alone affect thefragile houses of the plebeians. See! numbers are already in ruins;what clouds of dust rise from them! The shock has passed, and we aresafe!"

  Scarcely had he uttered the words, when again that sullen roaringbeneath the earth was heard. There was no time for flight, they stoodparalysed with horror. Donna Theresa showed the fewest signs of fear,as she gazed forth on the city, great part of which lay spread at theirfeet: she sought not for support, while the other ladies present clungto the arms of those nearest them, except the elder Marchioness ofTavora, who, drawing forth a crucifix from her bosom, called on allaround her to pray to the holy Virgin for safety; but, during thosemoments, the only words any could utter were, "Misericordia!misericordia!"

  The wildest cries of agony and fear arose from below, where row beyondrow of the thickly crowded streets swayed backwards and forwards, likethe agitated waves of the ocean, when the first blast of the hurricaneis felt; while the thick clouds of dust which ascended from the fallingmasses seemed like the foam flying before the tempest.

  A strong wind now blew with terrific violence, and, as here and there aview could be obtained of the city, one scene of havoc and dest
ructionpresented itself: not a church, or convent, scarce a house, was standingbelow them, except in the immediate neighbourhood, on the side of thehill; and many of the houses even there were tottering to their base,the people hurrying through the streets, they knew not whither, seekingfor safety, and often hurrying to destruction. Numbers had fled to abroad quay, newly built of solid marble, where they deemed themselves inperfect safety; when, as if by magic, it suddenly sank, the waterrushing into the vast chasm it had formed, drawing within its vortex,like a whirlpool, numbers of boats and small vessels, crowded withunfortunate wretches, who fancied that it was from the earth alone theyhad cause to fear. Directly after this dreadful catastrophe hadoccurred, a vast wave was seen rising on the river, hitherto so calm andshining, and rushing with impetuous force towards

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