The sun disappeared; the glare of the conflagration began to overpower the light of day. The palace of the Shogun, at the foot of the tower, was a vast furnace, which, seen from above, appeared like a lake of fire tossed by a tempest. The flames surged and seethed, and reared lofty crests, like waves in a storm. Now and then a cloud of red smoke passed before the Prince's eyes, obscuring the horizon. The entire tower was burning; a fearful roar, mingled with a continual crackling sound, filled its walls. The topmost platform, however, was not yet kindled, but already the floor cracked and shook. A jet of flame leaped up and touched the edge of the roof. "Come, liberating fire!" cried the Prince; "come and allay the devouring fires of my soul! Extinguish, if you can, the inextinguishable flame of my love." He took from his bosom a crumpled paper, and unfolding it, raised it to his lips; then read it for the last time by the lurid light of the conflagration. "One day these flowers hung their heads to die. They let fall their luminous soul like a diamond. Then the two drops of dew met at last, and were mingled in the stream." The heat was intolerable. The paper suddenly blazed up in the Prince's fingers. He gasped for breath; he felt that he was dying. "My beloved," he cried, "I go before! Do not make me wait too long at the tryst!" Like the huge petals of a fiery flower, the flames shut in the last floor; they spread to the roof. The two monstrous goldfish writhed on the ridge-pole as if suddenly endowed with life; then they melted, and flowed down in two incandescent streams. Soon the entire edifice fell in with a terrible crash, and an immense sheaf of sparks and flame streamed up to heaven. [1] June 2, 1615. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Usurper, by Judith Gautier