"Hold thy belief," replied Ulrica, "till the proof reach thee. But no!" she said, interrupting herself, "thou shalt know even now the doom which all thy power, strength and courage is unable to avoid, though it is prepared for thee by this feeble hand. Markest thou the smouldering and suffocating vapor which already eddies in sable folds through the chamber? Didst thou think it was but the darkening of thy bursting eyes, the difficulty of thy cumbered breathing? No! Front-de-Boeuf, there is another cause. Rememberest thou the magazine of fuel that is stored beneath these apartments?" "Woman!" he exclaimed with fury, "thou hast not set fire to it? By heaven, thou hast, and the castle is in flames!" "They are fast rising at least," said Ulrica, with frightful composure, "and a signal shall soon wave to warn the besiegers to press hard upon those who would extinguish them. Farewell, Front-de-Boeuf! But know, if it will give thee comfort to know it, that Ulrica is bound to the same dark coast with thyself, the companion of thy punishment as the companion of thy guilt. And now, parricide, farewell for ever! May each stone of this vaulted roof find a tongue to echo that title into thine ear!" [Illustration: ULRICA LOCKS THE DOOR ] So saying, she left the apartment; and Front-de-Boeuf could hear the crash of the ponderous keys as she locked and double-locked the door behind her, thus cutting off the most slender chance of escape. In the extremity of agony, he shouted upon his servants and allies--"Stephen and Saint Maur! Clement and Giles! I burn here unaided! To the rescue-- to the rescue, brave Bois-Guilbert, valiant De Bracy! It is Front-de- Boeuf who calls! It is your master, ye traitor squires! Your ally--your brother in arms, ye perjured and faithless knights! All the curses due to traitors upon your recreant heads, do you abandon me to perish thus miserably! They hear me not--they cannot hear me--my voice is lost in the din of battle. The smoke rolls thicker and thicker, the fire has caught upon the floor below. O, for one draught of the air of heaven, were it to be purchased by instant annihilation! The red fire flashes through the thick smoke! the demon marches against me under the banner of his own element. Foul spirit, avoid! I go not with thee without my comrades--all, all are thine that garrison these walls. Thinkest thou Front-de-Boeuf will be singled out to go alone? No; the infidel Templar, De Bracy, Ulrica, the men who aided my enterprises, the dog Saxons and accursed Jews who are my prisoners--all, all shall attend me--a goodly fellowship as ever took the downward road." But it were impious to trace any further the picture of the blasphemer and parricide's death-bed.