The wind howled in a wild gust, and suddenly through the narrow window there showed the black sky torn in two by the lightning flash. As it circled the chamber, Visconti raised his head--the door was open. And through the opening two faces peered--they were not human faces--Visconti knew them when they were. Utter blackness followed upon the vivid flash, and the thunder crashed and rolled, and at last the rain came with a mighty roar. "I am in hell!" yelled Visconti. "I am dead, and in hell!" And maniac shrieks rose. He dragged himself to the narrow slit that made the window, and some of the heavy rain-drops were dashed in upon his face. "I am alive!" he cried, "alive! It does not rain in hell!" He dropped, and lay prone along the ground. After awhile he rose, and began groping for the outer door. The walls seemed to rock and twist, but on his face and hand was the cold splash of the rain, and Visconti kept a hold upon his self-control, saying between his teeth: "A light; if I can get a light." He found the door, and struck upon it with the fury of madness. There was no response: Again he struck and shouted. The worst had gone by, but only to leave his thoughts centered on one idea: to see a human face and in the light. Suddenly, in the midst of his blows, the door opened, showing a glimmering light, and in the entrance the figure of a soldier, who looked fearfully around the chamber. "I thought it was the fiend himself who called!" he said, and crossed himself. Visconti clutched his arm. "It was the fiend," he said. "Legions of them--the place is haunted! Give me a light!" The soldier shrank back in horror at his words, at his hardly human eyes. "Santa Maria!" he muttered. "I have heard evil tales of this castle, the storm too is fearful----" "Give me a light," said Visconti; "give me a light!" "None of the prisoners have lights--it is forbidden----" began the man, but Gian Maria cut him short. "A light, I say!" and he put his blood-marked hand upon the other's shoulder. "Thou heardst the fiend scream--and it _was_ the fiend. Wilt thou give me a light?" The frightened soldier shrank from him anew. "Thou art distraught," he cried with a paling face. Visconti laughed wildly. "Do I not say so? Give me the lantern!" and he held out his finger, on which there blazed a splendid ring. "Would any ordinary prisoner wear a ring like this? I tell thee it is a coal from hell, and I will give it thee--for thy lantern. See, how it shines; try if it will burn thee to the bone," and he stripped it from his finger, dropping it on the pavement at the soldier's feet. "Truly," gasped the soldier, looking at him, "thou art no ordinary man, and as for thy gems--whether they be coals or no, thou shalt have the lantern." He stepped across the threshold as he spoke, a little fearfully, and placed the lantern in the niche cut to receive it in the wall.