On quitting his mansion and entering the street, the dense weight
of the atmosphere became more and more apparent. The heat was so
oppressive that the streets were actually deserted--even the artisans
had closed their stores; darkness had fallen suddenly, shrouding
the beautiful twilight peculiar to Spain as with a pall. Morales
unconsciously glanced towards the west, where, scarcely half-an-hour
before, the sun had sunk gloriously to rest; and there all was not
black. Resting on the edge of the hill, was a far-spreading crimson
cloud, not the rosy glow of sunset, but the color of blood. So
remarkable was its appearance, that Don Ferdinand paused in
involuntary awe. The blackness closed gradually round it; but
much decreased, and still decreasing in size, it floated
onwards--preserving its blood-red hue, in appalling contrast with
the murky sky. Slowly Morales turned in the direction of the castle,
glancing up at times, and unable to suppress a thrill of supernatural
horror, as he observed this remarkable appearance floating just before
him wherever he turned. Denser and denser became the atmosphere, and
blacker the sky, till he could not see a single yard before him;
thunder growled in the distance, and a few vivid flashes of lightning
momentarily illumined the gloom, but still the cloud remained.
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