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Updated: May 21, 2025
The breeze might have toyed with that mist of golden hair, and the great dark eyes softly luminous had the expectancy of a gazelle awaiting the joy of the daydawn. She was daughter to one of the most ancient and noble of the patrician houses, in direct descent, so the Cornari claimed, of the Cornelii of Rome.
So the long hours of the dreadful night dragged on. At length came daydawn. The storm had rolled away. A lull in the besieging guns gave the Legation a little rest of mind. Hungry and helpless, it waited the passing of another day. A silence seemed to fill the city and the wiser ones wondered anxiously what it might portend. Suddenly, in the midst of it, a great gun boomed out to the northeast.
These are our realms, no limits to their sway. Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey. At three o'clock next morning, about an hour and a half before daydawn, I was roused from my cot by the gruff voice of the boatswain on deck "All hands up anchor." The next moment the gunroom steward entered with a lantern, which he placed on the table "Gentlemen, all hands up anchor, if you please."
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