There, by the burst-in lattice, stood the baron, his grey hair flying above his head, and ever shouting to the imp, "Stronger, Klosso—stronger!" And every time he used the words, the hurricane burst louder and louder upon the rocking turrets. And still Armand clung to the stone-work of the burst-in lattice, through which the flying sand drove in, and clustered in his robes and hair.
And now the terrified domestics began to rush up to the chamber of the baron.
"My lord, such a storm was never heard of!"
"My lord, the devil is loose, and riding on the wind!"
"My lord, the end of the world is at hand!"
"Klosso!" shouted the baron, "stronger!"
As he spoke, the wind burst like a thunder-clap over them, and they heard the crash of a falling tower. The serving men and women grovelled in terror on the floor; the baron clung by the window; the imp, visible only to him, sat on the back of the arm-chair, as he had sat since his appearance.
But hush! Another sound, mingling with the roar of the wind, and deeper and more awful still. It rapidly increased, and the baron found his face besprinkled with driving drops of water—they were salt.
"My lord—my lord!" screamed the seneschal, sinking, as he spoke, at the baron's knees; "my lord—the sea!"
A cry was heard without; the lights of the hamlet beneath disappeared; and then a shock from below made the chateau swing and rock, and white waves were all around them.