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burn! How the green silk will blaze and the flames
play in her yellow hair! Fear not her incantations,
fire—let her burn! Here is one who because of her
must suffer to the end of his days.”
Bells rang, wagons rattled, hose lines were
dragged out, water was carried up from the lake, and
people came running from the neighboring villages.
There were cries and wails and commands. A roof
had just fallen in. Then came the awful crackle and
roar of flames. But nothing disturbed Kevenhüller,
who sat in the smithy rubbing his hands.
Suddenly he heard a crash, as if the heavens had
fallen, and started with a jubilant cry. It was done!
She had been crushed by the falling beams and
destroyed by the flames.
He thought with regret of the glories and delights
of Ekeby that must needs have been sacrificed to
rid the world of her; the beautiful halls where
happiness had dwelt, the tables which had groaned
under the weight of delectable dishes, the priceless
old furniture and the old silver and porcelain which
could never be replaced. With a wild shriek he
sprang to his feet. … His wheel, his sun, the
model on which so much depended—that too was
in the house!
“Am I going mad?” he gasped. “How could I
have done such a thing?”
At that moment the door of the smithy opened,
and there, on the threshold, stood the Wood
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