“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!⁠—May Mista, Skogula, and Zernebock, gods of the ancient Saxons⁠—fiends, as the priests now call them⁠—supply the place of comforters at your dying bed, which Ulrica now relinquishes!⁠—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 forever!⁠—May each stone of this vaulted roof find a tongue to echo that title into thine ear!”

So saying, she left the apartment; and Front-de-Boeuf could hear the crash of the ponderous key, as she locked and double-locked the door behind her, thus cutting off the most slender chance of escape.