, and spread over the city and ducal
palace. There was a rolling and rumbling of thunder and howling of wind,
such as might have heralded the Day of judgment. The lightning had not,
as usual, rent the darkness with long, jagged flashes, but had fallen to
the ground as great fiery balls which, however, had set nothing aflame.
The watchmen on the towers asserted that above the black clouds a
silver-white mist had floated, like a stream of milk over dark wool, and
that in the midst of the rumbling and crashing of the thunder they had
heard the sweet tones of harps. Many of the burghers said that they too
had heard it, and the ducal Maker of Musical Instruments declared that
the notes sounded as if they had come from a fine harpsichord--though
not from one of the best--which some one had played between heaven and
earth.

As soon as the firing of cannon began, all the people ran into the
streets, and the street-cleaners, who were sweeping up the tiles and
broken bits of slate that the storm had torn from the roofs, leaned
on their brooms and listened. The Constable was using a great deal of
powder; the time seemed long to the men and women who were counting
the number of reports, and there seemed no end to the noise. Sixty
guns meant a princess, one hundred and one meant a prince. When the
sixty-first was heard, there was great rejoicing, for then they knew
that the duchess had borne a son; when, however, another shot followed
the one hundred and first, a clever advocate suggested that perhaps
there were two princesses. When one hundred and sixty-one guns had been
fired, they said it might be a boy and a girl; when the one hundred
and eightieth came, the schoolmaster, whose wife had presented him
with seven daughters, exclaimed: "Perhaps there are triplets, 'feminini
generis!" But this supposition was confuted by the next shot. When the
firing ceased after the two hundred and second gun, the people knew that
their beloved duchess was the mother of twin boys.

The city went crazy with joy. Flags bearing the national colours were
hoisted in place of the mourning banners. In the show-windows of the
drapers' shops red, blue, and yellow stuffs were exhibited once
more, and the courtiers smoothed the wrinkles out of their brows, and
practised their smiles again.

Every one was delighted, with the exception of the Astrologer, and a few
old women and wise men, who drew long faces, and said that children born
in such a night had u