At the least sound her hands burned and her eyes tried to pierce the darkness.

Was the wonderful event about to take place, the prodigy she awaited?
No, there was nothing yet.

It was probably merely the beating of the wings of a night bird.

And she listened again, attentively, until she could distinguish the difference of sound between the leaves of the elms and the willows.
At least twenty times she trembled violently when a little stone rolled in the rivulet, or a prowling animal jumped over the wall.

She leaned forward; but there was nothing--still nothing.
At last, after some days, when at night a warmer darkness fell from the sky where no moon was visible, a change began.