The night had closed in, and the architect was desperate. "If money cannot tempt you, fear shall force you;" and, springing toward the stranger, he plucked a dagger from his girdle, and held its point close to the breast[{236}] of the mysterious draughtsman. In a moment his wrists were pinioned, as with the grasp of a vise, and squeezed until he dropped his weapon and shrieked in agony. Falling on the sands, he writhed like an eel upon the fisherman's hook; but plunged and struggled in vain. When nearly fainting, he felt himself thrown helpless upon the very brink of the stream.
"There! revive, and be reasonable. Learn that gold and steel have no power over me. You want my cathedral, for it would bring you honour, fame, and profit; and you can have it if you choose."
"How?—tell me how?"
"By signing this parchment with your blood."
"Avaunt, fiend!" shrieked the architect; "in the name of the Saviour I bid thee begone." And so saying, he made the sign of the cross; and the Evil One (for it was he) was forced to vanish before the holy symbol. He had time, however, to mutter: "You'll come for the plan at midnight to-morrow."
The architect staggered home, half-dead with contending passions, and muttering: "Sell my soul," "To-morrow at midnight," "Honour and fame," and other words which[{237}] told the struggle going on within his soul. When he reached his lodgings, he met the only servant he had going out wrapped in her cloak.
"And where are you going so late?" said her surprised master.
"To a mass for a soul in purgatory," was the reply.
"Oh, horror! horror! no mass will avail me. To everlasting torments shall I be doomed;" and, hurrying to his room, he cast himself down with tears of remorse, irresolution, and despair. In this state his old housekeeper discovered him on her return from her holy errand, and, her soul being full of charity and kindly religion, she begged to know what had caused such grief; and spoke of patience in suffering, and pardon by repentance. Her words fell upon the disordered ear of the architect with a heavenly comfort; and he told her what had passed.
"Mercy me!" was her exclamation. "Tempted by the fiend himself!—so strongly, too!" and, so saying, she left the chamber without another word, and hurried off to her confessor.