“I can,” the leper said; “but had you now deprived me of my life, not knowing of the spell, a hundred thousand years had rolled their course, and yet not seen you free.”
“Haste thee, then, now,” quoth Jaufry, eagerly. “Sir knight,” the man with shining face replied, “you still have much to bear. Such is the fashion of this castle's spell, my lord alone could power grant to such as hither came to cross the threshold; but never did they pass it in return save dead or maimed.”
“How, then, wilt thou succeed?” said Jaufry.
“Spy you, on top of yonder casement high, a marble head?”
“Yea, by my faith! And then?”
“Lo, reach it down; and break it fair in twain; you'll thus destroy the charm: but first your armour carefully put on; for when the spell is o'er, these castle-walls will crumble into dust.”
Trusting not wholly to the lep'rous wretch, Jaufry then bound him by the feet and arms, and to the damsel thus confided him:
“If he hath lied,” said he, “spare not his life.” Then he resumed his helm, took down the marble head, whose shape was fair and cunningly devised, and setting it near him on a wooden bench, discharged on't with his sword so great a blow, he clove it dean in twain. Sudden it shrieked, it moaned, it bounded up, hissing and growling as a thunderbolt; whilst the vexed elements at once unchained, and beam and stone at war with frightful din came crushing over Jaufry. Vainly his shield was raised to guard his head; Heaven's face was darkened o'er; an awful storm, where wind and lightning strove, bursting with ruin, 'mid the ambient air had borne the knight away, but for his orison to heaven's King. Huge clouds of dust rose upwards to the skies; while a fierce wind, in passing, swept away the last memorial of the magic work: of castle naught remained.