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And then came a wonder. It seemed to those who in Europe watched for the
rising of the star that the world must have ceased its rotation. In a
thousand open spaces of down and upland the people who had fled thither
from the floods and the falling houses and sliding slopes of hill
watched for that rising in vain. Hour followed hour through a terrible
suspense, and the star rose not. Once again men set their eyes upon the
old constellations they had counted lost to them forever. In England it
was hot and clear overhead, though the ground quivered perpetually, but
in the tropics, Sirius and Capella and Aldebaran showed through a veil
of steam. And when at last the great star rose near ten hours late, the
sun rose close upon it, and in the centre of its white heart was a disc
of black.
Over Asia it was the star had begun to fall behind the movement of the
sky, and then suddenly, as it hung over India, its light had been
veiled. All the plain of India from the mouth of the Indus to the mouths
of the Ganges was a shallow waste of shining water that night, out of
which rose temples and palaces, mounds and hills, black with people.
Every minaret was a clustering mass of people, who fell one by one into
the turbid waters, as heat and terror overcame them. The whole land
seemed a-wailing, and suddenly there swept a shadow across that furnace
of despair, and a breath of cold wind, and a gathering of clouds, out of
the cooling air. Men looking up, near blinded, at the star, saw that a
black disc was creeping across the light. It was the moon, coming
between the star and the earth. And even as men cried to God at this
respite, out of the East with a strange inexplicable swiftness sprang
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