As her strength grew less, I lifted her from the ground; her emaciated form hung over my arm, her sunken cheek rested on my breast; in a sepulchral voice she murmured:⁠—“This is the end of love!⁠—Yet not the end!”⁠—and frenzy lent her strength as she cast her arm up to heaven: “there is the end! there we meet again. Many living deaths have I borne for thee, O Raymond, and now I expire, thy victim!⁠—By my death I purchase thee⁠—lo! the instruments of war, fire, the plague are my servitors. I dared, I conquered them all, till now! I have sold myself to death, with the sole condition that thou shouldst follow me⁠—Fire, and war, and plague, unite for thy destruction⁠—O my Raymond, there is no safety for thee!”