It struck on Yva's shield and expanded to right and left.
The insulated shield and garments that she wore seemed to resist it.
For a fraction of time she stood there like a glowing angel, wrapped in fire.
Then she was swept outwards and upwards and at a little distance dissolved like a ghost and vanished from our sight.
Yva was ashes! Yva was gone! The sacrifice was consummated! And not in vain! Not in vain! On her poor breast she had received the full blast of that hellish lightning flash.

Yet whilst destroying, it turned away from her, seeking the free paths of the air.

So it came about that its obstructed strength struck the foot of the travelling gyroscope, diffused and did not suffice to thrust it that one necessary inch on which depended the fate of half the world, or missing it altogether, passed away on either side.

Even so the huge, gleaming mountain rocked and trembled.

Once, twice, thrice, it bowed itself towards us as though in majestic homage to greatness passed away.