At last she left the room, and the wind slammed the door violently behind her.

Paaker groaned, and pressed his hand over his eyes.
"Mother, mother!" he cried.

"I cannot go back--I cannot." A fearful gust of wind howled round the house, and drowned his voice, and then he heard two tremendous claps, as if rocks had been hurled from heaven.

He started up and went to the window, where the melancholy grey dawn was showing, in order to call the slaves.

Soon they came trooping out, and the steward called out as soon as he saw him: "The storm has blown down the masts at the great gate!" "Impossible!" cried Paaker.
"Yes, indeed!" answered the servant.