"How about that constant love of thine? Do ye never think of that poor child Marguerite, lonely and far away, awaiting thee month after month?"
"Be silent and do not torture me, fiend," Faust cried bitterly.
"Oh I have a lot to tell thee," the Black Prince replied. "I have been saving news for thee. Dost thou remember how, on those nights when thou didst go to see that good maiden, she was told to give her old mother a sleeping draught, that she might sleep soundly while ye billed and cooed? Well, when ye were gone, Marguerite still expected ye, and continued to give the draught, and one night the old dame slept forever, and I tell thee that draught killed her. Now thy Marguerite is going to be hanged for it." Upon hearing that, Faust nearly died with horror.
"What is it ye tell me?" he cried. "My God! This is not true."
"All right. All right. Believe it or not, it is the same to me—and to her—because that poor maid is about to die for killing her mother."
"Thou shalt save her, or I shall kill—" But he stopped in his fury, knowing that none could kill the Devil. He wrung his hands in despair.
"Now if thou wilt keep thyself a bit civil, I may save her for thee, but don't forget thy manners."
At that Faust was in a fury of excitement to be off to Marguerite's village.
"Not so fast, not so fast," the Devil said "Now if I am to save thy love, I must have a little agreement with thee. I want your signature to this paper. Sign, and I promise to save her, without fail. But I must have that first."
"I will give thee anything," Faust cried, and instantly signed the paper. That paper was really an agreement to give the Devil his soul when he should die, so Faust had abandoned his last hope on earth or hereafter. Then the Devil called for his horses—his black horses upon which damned souls rode with him to Hell.