The old king was dead.
Black flags hung from the three hundred towers, and cast their dark shadows below.
A dim light fell through the bow-windows into the castle, for the three hundred flags obscured the sun.
With funeral music, that made the heart feel sad, the procession, with long flickering torches, followed the king’s coffin down the steps to the deep vaults below.
The priests, in black, prayed in Latin; the court, in black, sang the litany; and the princesses, in black, sang alternately a long Latin sentence. . . .
Behind the coffin walked, first, Emeralda; behind her, Astra her sister; and then little Psyche, wrapped in her black veil. Emeralda sang with a voice of crystal; Astra, distracted, was too late in answering; and Psyche’s voice
