Amongst those who fell from the greatest height, and of course rebounded most violently, were the unfortunate individuals who accompanied Clara, an unlucky apprentice having poked his right wing through the silk of their balloon, in endeavouring to avoid the charge of an aerial horseman, who found his Aeolian steed too difficult to manage in the confusion. The car containing our friends was in consequence precipitated to earth so rapidly, as for the moment to deprive them of breath.
“Sure, and I’m killed entirely!” cried Father Murphy.
“Oh, my bonnet! my beautiful bonnet!” sobbed Mrs. Russel; whilst Clara, dreadfully frightened, began to cry; and Mr. Abelard, whose ideas were generally a long time travelling to his brain, particularly upon occasions of sudden alarm, stood completely silent, stupidly gazing about him, as though he had not the least notion what could possibly have happened. Indeed, it was not till a full hour afterwards, that he found himself sufficiently recovered to exclaim, “Dear me! I do think we were very near being killed!”
The confusion in the air still continued; piercing screams that demons were amongst them, mingled horribly with the crashing of balloons, the cries of the sufferers, and the successive falling of heavy weights. The situation of the crowd below, however, was infinitely worse than that of those above. The momentum of the falling bodies being fearfully increased by the distance they had to descend, those beneath had no chance of escape, and were inevitably crushed to death by the weight, whilst the agonizing shrieks of the unfortunate wretches who saw their danger coming from a distance, yet were so jammed together in the crowd that they could not fly, rang shrilly upon the ear, and pierced through every heart.
At this moment a dreadful scream ran through the crowd, and the horse of Queen Claudia, his bridle broken, his housings torn, his nostrils distended, and his sides streaming with gore, rushed past—“Oh God! the Queen! the Queen!” burst from every voice, and one general rush took place towards the spot from whence the cry had proceeded.
Beneath the triumphal arch, and partially sheltered by its shade, lay the bleeding body of Claudia, supported by Edmund. By her side, knelt Rosabella, who, assisted by Father Morris, was applying restoratives; whilst Henry Seymour was endeavouring to restore Elvira, who had fainted in his arms, and Sir Ambrose, his face streaming with blood, stood at a little distance amongst a group of courtiers, several of whom had also experienced severe injuries. The tumult in the air still continued; groans and shrieks and exclamations, that the atmosphere was supernaturally haunted, were heard in many places; and some persons declared the accident to be the work of demons. A current of wind had blown those balloons that had become unmanageable across the city, while the others, their occupiers, terrified almost to madness appeared still contending with some fearful monster in the sky.
The courtiers, however, heeded not this disturbance; for all their attention was occupied by the apparently expiring Queen, whose long-drawn sighs, and convulsed bosom, seemed to threaten her instant dissolution.
“She’s gone!” cried Lord Gustavus de Montfort, as her bosom heaved with a deep, heavy sigh, and then all was still.
“Yes, she’s dead!” repeated Lord Noodle.
“She is certainly dead!” reiterated Lord Doodle.
And then these sapient counsellors of the apparently departed Queen shook their wise heads in sympathy.
“Hush! she breathes!” cried Lord Edmund.
For some moments, the courtiers stood in breathless anxiety watching the body, and fearing to move lest they should break the awful silence that prevailed, though their hearts throbbed till the pulsations were almost audible.
Fearful was the pause that now ensued! All were suffering from the torments of hope or fear; for all knew that the interests of the whole community hung upon her breath. Most of the courtiers either hoped to gain places, or feared to lose them, whilst all trembled at the uncertainty that seemed to rest upon their future destiny, and the prospect of the anarchy which the purposed mode of electing their future Sovereign might create. The interest which the fate of the Queen excited was thus intense, and the courtiers hung over her body with streaming eyes and motionless limbs to watch the result.
At this instant, a fearful and tremendous yell ran through the air; and the car containing the Mummy, which had been for some time entangled with the other balloons, fell to the ground with tremendous force, close to the expiring Queen. The gigantic figure of Cheops started from it as it fell—his ghastly eyes glaring with unnatural lustre upon the terrified courtiers, who ran screaming with agony in all directions, forgetting everything but the horrid vision before them.
XII
The tumult had now nearly subsided. The late busy crowd fled, uttering shrieks of horror and dismay; and of all the countless mass of human beings that had so lately thronged around, none remained save Edmund and Father Morris, who supported Claudia; and the Duke and Henry Seymour, who still remained near the insensible form of Elvira; whilst they, pale and immoveable as the sculptured marble of the tomb, their eyes chained as though by magic, upon the horrid vision before them, waiting in fearful expectation of what was next to happen, scarcely daring to move or breathe, the solemn silence that prevailed being only broken by the convulsive gasps of the expiring Queen, presented an awful change from the busy hum of thousands which had so lately filled the air.
“Where am I?” exclaimed Cheops,
