Terrified at an apparition so different from what he had expected, Ambrosio remained gazing upon the fiend, deprived of the power of utterance. The thunder had ceased to roll: universal silence reigned through the dungeon.

“For what am I summoned hither?” said the daemon, in a voice which sulphurous fogs had damped to hoarseness.

At the sound nature seemed to tremble: a violent earthquake rocked the ground, accompanied by a fresh burst of thunder, louder and more appalling than the first.

Ambrosio was long unable to answer the daemon’s demand.

“I am condemned to die,” he said with a faint voice, his blood running cold, while he gazed upon his dreadful visitor. “Save me! Bear me from hence!”

“Shall the reward of my services be paid me? Dare you embrace my cause? Will you be mine, body and soul? Are you prepared to renounce him who made you, and him who died for you? Answer but ‘Yes’ and Lucifer is your slave.”