If a catastrophy was pending she would have no power to prevent it.
It was four o'clock on Sunday morning when Vesuvius finally reached the climax of her travail.

With a deep groan of anguish the mountain burst asunder, and from its side rolled a great stream of molten lava that slowly spread down the slope, consuming trees, vineyards and dwellings in its path and overwhelming the fated city of Bosco-Trecase.
Our friends marked the course of destruction by watching the thread of fire slowly wander down the mountain slope.

They did not know of the desolation it was causing, but the sight was terrible enough to inspire awe in every breast.
The volcano was easier after that final outburst, but the black clouds formed thicker than ever, and soon obscured the sky again..