of thine? Do ye never think of that poor
child Marguerite, lonely and far away, awaiting thee month after
month?"

"Be silent and do not torture me, fiend," Faust cried bitterly.

"Oh I have a lot to tell thee," the Black Prince replied. "I have been
saving news for thee. Dost thou remember how, on those nights when
thou didst go to see that good maiden, she was told to give her old
mother a sleeping draught, that she might sleep soundly while ye
billed and cooed? Well, when ye were gone, Marguerite still expected
ye, and continued to give the draught, and one night the old dame
slept forever, and I tell thee that draught killed her. Now thy
Marguerite is going to be hanged for it." Upon hearing that, Faust
nearly died with horror.

"What is it ye tell me?" he cried. "My God! This is not true."

"All right. All right. Believe it or not, it is the same to me--and to
her--because that poor maid is about to die for killing her mother."

"Thou shalt save her, or I shall kill--" But he stopped in his fury,
knowing that none could kill the Devil. He wrung his hands in despair.

"Now if thou wilt keep thyself a bit civil, I may save her for thee,
but don't forget thy manners."

At that Faust was in a fury of excitement to be off to Marguerite's
village.

"Not so fast, not so fast," the Devil said "Now if I am to save thy
love, I must have a little agreement with thee. I want your signature
to this paper. Sign, and I promise to save her, without fail. But I
must have that first."

"I will give thee anything," Faust cried, and instantly signed the
paper. That paper was really an agreement to give the Devil his soul
when he should die, so Faust had abandoned his last hope on earth or
hereafter. Then the Devil called for his horses--his black horses upon
which damned souls rode with him to Hell.

"Mount," he said to Faust, "and in a trice we shall be with thy
Marguerite and snatch her from the gallows." Instantly they mounted
and then began the fearful ride to Hell.

Presently they came near a crowd of peasants kneeling about a roadside
cross.

"Oh, have a care. Let us not ride upon them," Faust cried.

"Get on, get on," the Devil cried. "It is thy Marguerite we are
hastening to," and the poor peasants scattered in every direction,
some being trampled upon and little children hurt.

"Horrible, horrible," Faust cried. "What is that monster pursuing us?"
he whispered, glancing fearfully behind him.

"Ye are drea