but he had fled; a troop of horse were waiting for him in the forest, and accompanied him in his flight. Faustus returned; but Death had seized his victims, and they had ceased to struggle with him. Faustus and the fiend instantly quitted the place.
Devil. Well, Faustus, what think you of the deed committed by the Benedictine in the name of the most Christian king?
Faustus. I am almost inclined to believe that our bodies are animated by fiendish spirits, and that we are only their instruments.
Devil. What a debasing employment for an immortal spirit to have to animate such an ill-contrived machine! Although I am a haughty demon, yet, believe me, I would rather animate a swine that wallows in the mire than one of ye, who roll in all manner of vice, and yet have the confidence to call yourselves images of the Most High.
Faustus was silent; for the adventures he was every day compelled to witness forced him, against his inclination, to believe in the moral worthlessness
of man. They travelled forward, and found every where hideous monuments of the cruelty of Louis the Eleventh. Faustus frequently made use of the Devil’s gold and treasure to stop the bleeding wounds which the hand of the tyrant had inflicted.
At length they arrived at Paris. Upon entering the city they found every thing in commotion. The people were rushing in crowds down one particular street; they followed the populace, and arrived in front of a scaffold covered with black cloth, and which communicated, by means of a door, with an adjoining building. Faustus asked what was the cause of all this; and he was told “that the rich Duke of Nemours was just going to be executed.” “And for what?” “The king has commanded it: there is a report, indeed, that he had hostile designs against the royal house, and that he intended to murder the dauphin; but as he has only been tried in his dungeon by judges named by the king, we know nothing for certain.”
“Say, rather,” exclaimed another of the bystanders, “that it is his property which costs him
his life; for our sovereign, in order to make us a great and celebrated nation, cuts off the heads of all our wealthy men, and would serve us in the same manner if we were to find fault with his proceedings.”
The Devil left the horses at the nearest inn, and then led Faustus through the crowd. They saw the duke, accompanied by his children, enter a chamber hung round with black, where a monk waited to receive his last confession. The father had his eyes fixed upon his sons, and could not look to heaven. After he had confessed himself, he laid his trembling hands upon the heads of the children, who were sobbing, and said, “May the blessing of an unhappy father, who falls a victim to tyranny and avarice, be your safeguard through life; but, alas, ye are the heirs of misfortune. Your rights and pretensions will infallibly doom you to long sufferings; ye are born for misery, and I shall die in this conviction.” He wished to say something more; but the guards silenced him, and hurried him out upon the scaffold.