"Mount," he said to Faust, "and in a trice we shall be with thy Marguerite and snatch her from the gallows." Instantly they mounted and then began the fearful ride to Hell.
Presently they came near a crowd of peasants kneeling about a roadside cross.
"Oh, have a care. Let us not ride upon them," Faust cried.
"Get on, get on," the Devil cried. "It is thy Marguerite we are hastening to," and the poor peasants scattered in every direction, some being trampled upon and little children hurt.
"Horrible, horrible," Faust cried. "What is that monster pursuing us?" he whispered, glancing fearfully behind him.
"Ye are dreaming."
"Nay! and there are hideous birds of prey now joining us. They rush upon us. What screams? Their black wings strike me." And then a bell tolled.
"Hark ye! It is the bell for her death. Hasten," the Devil urged.
"Aye, make haste, make haste." And the horses, black as night, were urged on and on. "See those ghastly skeletons dancing!" Faust screamed, as the fearful spectres gathered round them.
"Think not of them, but of our Marguerite!" the Devil counselled.