“Vile murderous hag!” replied Front-de-Boeuf; “detestable screech-owl! it is then thou who art come to exult over the ruins thou hast assisted to lay low?”

“Ay, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf,” answered she, “it is Ulrica!⁠—it is the daughter of the murdered Torquil Wolfganger!⁠—it is the sister of his slaughtered sons!⁠—it is she who demands of thee, and of thy father’s house, father and kindred, name and fame⁠—all that she has lost by the name of Front-de-Boeuf!⁠—Think of my wrongs, Front-de-Boeuf, and answer me if I speak not truth. Thou hast been my evil angel, and I will be thine⁠—I will dog thee till the very instant of dissolution!”

“Detestable fury!” exclaimed Front-de-Boeuf, “that moment shalt thou never witness⁠—Ho! Giles, Clement, and Eustace! Saint Maur, and Stephen! seize this damned witch, and hurl her from the battlements headlong⁠—she has betrayed us to the Saxon!⁠—Ho! Saint Maur! Clement! false-hearted, knaves, where tarry ye?”