The Mule Of The Peasant Tumbled Prostrate, While
The Horse I Rode Reared Himself Perpendicularly, And Turning Round,
Dashed Down The Hill At Headlong Speed, Which For Some Time It Was
Impossible To Cheek.
The lightning was followed by a peal almost
as terrible, but distant, for it sounded hollow and deep; the
hills, however, caught up its voice, seemingly repeating it from
summit to summit, till it was lost in interminable space.
Other
flashes and peals succeeded, but slight in comparison, and a few
drops of rain descended. The body of the tempest seemed to be over
another region. "A hundred families are weeping where that bolt
fell," said the peasant when I rejoined him, "for its blaze has
blinded my mule at six leagues' distance." He was leading the
animal by the bridle, as its sight was evidently affected. "Were
the friars still in their nest above there," he continued, "I
should say that this was their doing, for they are the cause of all
the miseries of the land."
I raised my eyes in the direction in which he pointed. Half way up
the mountain, over whose foot we were wending, jutted forth a black
frightful crag, which at an immense altitude overhung the road, and
seemed to threaten destruction. It resembled one of those ledges
of the rocky mountains in the picture of the Deluge, up to which
the terrified fugitives have scrambled from the eager pursuit of
the savage and tremendous billows, and from whence they gaze down
in horror, whilst above them rise still higher and giddier heights,
to which they seem unable to climb.
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