Zaril went to his room, he is looking outside the window gazing out into the vast expanse of the heavens spread before him.The sound of the river outside the inn gives him some kind of tranquility

If the young man had been less preoccupied, He would have the chance to see some opera performance in the town, in that atmosphere of light, he would have been charmed with one of those magical and fantastic spectacles, the like of which is he had seen in Ragalia

The performance mostly consist of a cascade of gold and diamonds in an Oriental setting, a deity wrapped in misty gauze, a sylph enveloped in a luminous halo, who moves forward apparently without touching the floor.

In her presence the flowers bloom, the dance awakens, the music bursts forth, and troops of devils, nymphs, satyrs, demons, angels, shepherds and shepherdesses, dance, shake their tambourines, and whirl about in rhythmic evolutions, each one placing some tribute at the feet of the goddess.

Zaril would have seen some beautiful and graceful maiden, clothed in the picturesque garments the Daughters of Yushanian Kingdom performing to every class of people, Elves, Beastkins,

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Celestials, Soldiers, Curates, old men and young.

But Zaril saw nothing of all this. His eyes were fixed on the heavens, in a deep thought. His room is a small space and was enclosed by four bare and grimy walls, in one of which was an iron grating. It was not a room for a noble, but peasants.

Far away there was a merry feast a youth was laughing, shouting, and pouring wine into the glass of a man that looks to be the father. The young boy man had the features of his father. The old man weakly uttered words which was the name of his son, the boy showed a brilliant smile in respond to his father, but suddenly the lights in the house were extinguished, the music and the noises ceased, but Zaril still hears the anguished cry of his father calling upon

his son in the hour of his death.

Silence had now blown its hollow breath over the city, and all things seemed to sleep in the embrace of nothingness. The crow watches the strokes of the church clocks and

the mournful cries of the weary sentinels. A waning moon began to appear, and everything seemed to be at rest; even Zaril himself, worn out by his sad thoughts or by his journey, he is now completely asleep.

A young Priest is standing motionless and silent in the midst of the merry ballroom, slowly he went to his room, with his elbow upon the window sill, with worn cheek resting on the palm of his hand, he was gazing silently into the distance where a bright star glittered in the dark sky. The star paled and disappeared, the dim light of the waning moon faded, but the friar did not move from his place he was gazing out over the field of the city and the sleeping sea at the far horizon wrapped in the morning mist.

"Now, the preparations will soon be finished"