ve me?

Yes, some one was trying to save me, was dragging my body across the
floor. Consciousness left me, and it seemed for ages I lay in a stupor.
When I opened my eyes again some one was still tugging at me. We were
going down the stairway, and on all sides of us were sheets of flapping
flame. I was wrapped in a blanket. How had it got there? Who was that
dark figure pulling at me so desperately, trying to lift me, staggering
a few paces with me, stumbling blindly on? Brave one, noble one, whoever
you be! Foolhardy one, reckless one, whoever you be! Save yourself while
yet there is time. Leave me to my fate. But, oh, the agony of it to
burn, to burn ...!

* * * * *

Another desperate effort and we are almost at the door. Flames are
darting at us like serpents, leaping kitten-like at our heels. Above us
is a billowy canopy of fire soaring upward with a vast crackling roar.
Fiery splinters shoot around us, while before us is a black pit of
smoke. Smooth walls of fire uprear about us. We are in a cavern of fire,
and in another moment it will engulf us. Oh, my rescuer, a last frenzied
effort! We are almost at the door. Then I am lifted up and we both
tumble out into the street. Not a second too soon, for, like a savage
beast foiled of its prey, a blast of flame shoots after us, and the
doorway is a gulf of blazing wrath.

* * * * *

I am lying in the snow, lying on a blanket, and some one holds my head.

"Berna, is that you?"

She nods. She does not speak. I shudder as I look at her. Her face is
like a great burn, a black mask in which her eyes and teeth gleam
whitely....

"Oh, Berna, Berna, and it was you that dragged me out...!"

* * * * *

My eyes go to the fiery hell in front. As I look the roof crashes in and
we are showered by falling sparks. I see a fireman run back. He is
swathed in flame. Madly he rolls in the snow. The hotel is like a
cascade of flame; it spouts outward like water, beautiful golden water.
In its centre is a wonderful whirlpool. I see the line of a black girder
leap out, and hanging over it a limp, charred shape. A moment it hangs
uncertainly, then plunges downward into the roasting heart of the pit.
And I know it for Locasto.

* * * * *

Oh, Berna, Berna! I can't bear to look at her. Why did she do it? It's
pitiful, pitiful....

The fire is spreading. Righ