"You have not seen it? You must do so; it is one of the wonders of Alpha. It is a vast park enclosed with high walls and covered with a roof of glass. Inside the snow falls, and we have sleighing and coasting and lakes of ice for skating. It was an invention of the king. The snowstorms there are beautiful."Thorndyke's reply was drowned in a harmonious explosion like that of tuned cannon; this was followed by the chimes of great bells which seemed to swing back and forth miles overhead.
"Listen!" whispered Bernardino, "father calls it 'musical thunder,' and he declares that it is produced in no other country but this.""It is not; he is right." And the heart of the Englishman was stirred by deep emotion. He had never dreamed that anything could so completely chain his fancy and elevate his imagination as what he heard. The musical clangor died down. The strange harmony grew more entrancing as it softened. Then the whole eastern sky began to flush with rosy, shimmering light.
"My father calls this the 'Ideal Dawn of Day,'" whispered Bernardino. "See the faint golden halo near the horizon; that is where the sun is supposed to be.""How is it done?" asked the Englishman.
"Few of our people know. It is a secret held only by the king and half a dozen scientists. The whole thing, however, is operated by two men in a room in the dome of the palace. The musician is a young German who was becoming the wonder of the musical world when father induced him to come to us. I have met him. He says he has been thoroughly happy here. He lives on music. He showed me the instrument he used to play, a little thing he called a violin, and its tones could not reach beyond the limits of a small room.
He laughs at it now and says the instrument that father gave him to play on has strings drawn from the centre of the earth to the stars of heaven."The rose-light had spread over the horizon and climbed almost to the zenith, and with the dying booming and gentle clangor it began to fade till all was dark again.
"Captain Tradmos ought to be here now," continued the princess, glancing uneasily toward the stairway. "We may not have so good an opportunity as this."Ten minutes went by.
"Surely, something has gone wrong," whispered Bernardino. "I have never seen the darkness last so long as this; besides, can't you hear the muttering of the people?"Thorndyke acknowledged that he did. He was about to add something else, but was prevented by a loud blast from the trumpet in the tower.
Bernardino shrank from him and fell to trembling.
"What is the matter?" he asked.
"The trumpet!" she gasped, "something awful has happened!"A moment of profound silence, then the murmuring of the crowd rose sullenly like the moaning of a rising storm; a search-light flashed up in the gloom and swept its uncertain stream from point to point, but it died out. Another and another shone for an instant in different parts of the city, but they all failed.
"Something awful has happened," repeated Bernardino, as if to herself; "the lights will not burn!""Had we not better go down?" asked Thorndyke anxiously, excited by her unusual perturbation.
For answer she mutely drew him to the eastern parapet. Far away in the east there still lingered a faint hint of pink, but all over the whole landscape darkness rested.
"See!" she exclaimed, pointing upward, "the clouds are thinning over the sun, and yet there is no light. What can be the matter?"At that juncture they heard soft steps on the roof and a voice calling:
"Bernardino! Princess Bernardino!"
"It is Tradmos," she ejaculated gladly, then she called out softly:
"Tradmos! Tradmos!"
"Here!" the voice said, and a figure loomed up before them. It was the captain. He was panting violently, as if he had been running.
"What is it?" she asked, clasping his arm.
"The sun has gone out," he announced.
A groan escaped her lips and she swayed into Thorndyke's arms.
"The clouds are thinning over the sun, yet there is no light. The king is excited; he fears a panic!""Has such a thing never happened?" asked Thorndyke.
"An hundred years ago; then thousands lost their lives. As soon as the people suspect the cause of the delay they will go mad with fear.""What can we do?" asked the princess, recovering her self-possession.
"Nothing, wait!" replied Tradmos. "This is as safe a place as you could find. Perhaps the trouble may be averted. Look!"The disk of the veiled sun was aglow with a faintly trembling light; but it went out. The silence was profound. The populace seemed unable to grasp the situation, but when the light had flickered over the black face of the sun once more and again expired, a sullen murmur rose and grew as it passed from lip to lip.
It became a threatening roar, broken by an occasional cry of pain and a dismal groan of terror. There was a crash as if a mountain had been burst by explosives.
"The swinging bridge has been thrown down!" said Tradmos.
Light after light flashed up in different parts of the city, but they were so small and so far apart that they seemed to add to the darkness rather than to lessen it.
"The moon, it will rise!" cried the princess.
"It cannot," said Tradmos in his beard, "at least not for several hours.""They will kill my father," she said despondently, "they always hold him responsible for any accident.""They cannot reach him," consoled Tradmos. "He is safe for the present at least.""Is it possible to make the repairs needed?"
"I don't know. When the accident happened long ago the sun was just rising.""Has it stopped?"
"I think not; it has simply gone out; the electric connection has, in some way, been cut off."The tumult seemed to have extended to the very limits of the city, and was constantly increasing. The smashing of timber and the falling of heavy stones were heard near by.
Tradmos leaned far over the parapet. "They are coming toward us!"he said; "they intend to destroy the palace; we must try to get down, but we shall meet danger even there."
