An overwhelming dread seized the listening captive: almost without knowing on what he was about to venture, he swung himself out of the loosened prison grating, and let himself down by his shoulder scarf so low towards the tower wall that he was able to take his stand on a projecting buttress; but hardly had he succeeded in doing this, ere another fragment of the prison wall loosened, together with the iron grating to which his scarf was bound; it flew past his head and dashed against the iron railing of the balcony below, where his scarf remained hanging. He himself lost his balance, and was forced to let go his hold; but he snatched involuntarily, as if with the instinct of self-preservation, at the projecting buttress on which his foot had just rested, and thus continued to cling, while he succeeded in resting one foot on the corner of the sloping porch above the staircase entrance. He stood thus directly over the stair, yet still at such a height above it as to involve the certainty of sustaining a serious injury in case of falling. He had ascertained that the trap-door of the well was immediately under his feet, and that the first footstep upon it would be the signal for its falling, and opening its deep and certain grave. It was hardly possible for Aagé to continue his hold long in this hanging position. Amid the universal tumult no one perceived him. He now heard the crash caused by the bursting of the gates, and the victorious shout, "The castle is won! Long live young king Eric!" The king had already entered the castle as a victor through the flaming gate. Aagé could not turn his head round and look down into the yard without losing his balance; but he heard, and instantly recognised the king's and Count Henrik's voices far below him. "Beware, my liege! here is a pitfall!" he shouted with all his might; but his voice was too faint; he was exhausted by his desperate exertions, and no one appeared to hear him amid the universal clashing of weapons, and the noisy shouts of victory. He was, besides, hidden by the pillar of the tower from those who were nearest to the upper story of the building. "Farewell, sweet Margaretha! farewell, love and life!" he gasped; "I must below." His fall and death, at this moment, appeared to be the only means of saving the king's life. "Long live my king!" he shouted, and let go his hold of the buttress. All seemed to grow dark before him; he fancied he was falling an unfathomable depth; but beyond this he was unconscious of what was passing around him. "Aagé, Aagé's voice!" cried the king, who, excited by the fight and the storm, stood at the head of his victorious troop of knights at the foot of the high wooden staircase. He had heard Aagé's voice, but where he knew not; some of the furthest men-at-arms had seen him fall down from the porch on the landing of the stairs, but the general noise and tumult overpowered their shouts of alarm. The king had already set his foot on the first step of the stair.