They got into the trap, Karl and the trunk in front, Lerne, the madman and the two Macbeths behind.
No sooner had the door slammed, than Donovan rose all at once, with a face of terror, as if he had heard Death sharpening his scythe.
A long howl, quite distinct from all others rose from the laboratory. The madman pointed in that direction, and replied to Nell with a long-drawn bestial cry, the horror of which made us all turn pale.
We awaited the end of it, as if for a deliverance.
Lerne, with his imperious eye, and harsh speech, gave orders, “Vorwärts, Karl, vorwärts,” and without any consideration, he thrust down his pupil, with a blow, on the seat.
The carriage moved off.
The madman, sitting close to his brother, looked at him wildly, as if he were the victim of some misfortune he could not understand.
The dreadful mystery was on me again. It was around me, coming nearer and nearer. This time I had felt the touch of its wings.
Far away, the howlings were redoubled, then the elder Macbeth exclaimed, “Nell, where is Nell?” And my uncle replied, “Alas, Nell is dead.”
“Poor Nell!” said Mr. Macbeth.