midnight
That great crack forebodes an avalanche ; you hold your breath , not to bring it down on your head . But seen above , what a compassionate , inquisitive charm in the skeleton ruin ! How your fancy runs riot , -- re-peopling the chambers , hearing the last cheerful good - night of that destined Pompeii , creeping on tiptoe with the mother when she gives her farewell look to the baby . Now all is midnight and silence ; then the red , crawling serpent comes out . Lo ! his breath ; hark ! his hiss .