At this moment the frightful storm broke in a window pane and the wind rushing in shook the curtains and made the lights flicker.
"Ah, do you see him?" cried Azraele. "Be still, don't look, don't open your eyes. Cover your face. Asafiel, the angel of Death is here. Don't you feel his cold breath? Hush, cover yourself up, perhaps he does not notice you."
Corsar clung to Azraele and covered his face with his hands.
"What do you want?" called Azraele, as if she were speaking with a visible spirit. "Whom have you come for, black shade, your eyes glowing with blue fire? There is nobody here but me. Corsar has not come. Come later, come an hour later. Away with you, black creature! May Allah crush you!"
Corsar did not dare open his eyes.
"Away with you, I say."
At this moment the lightning struck one of the bastions and shook the mountains to their foundations. When the sound of thunder ceased, a light fall of rain began on the roof; the roar of the storm grew more and more distant; was heard dully near by and howled mournfully in the distant woods.
"He has gone," whispered Azraele, in a barely audible tone. "He promised to be back in an hour. Corsar, you can live just one hour."
"One hour!" repeated Corsar, with dulled senses. "Oh, Azraele, where can you hide me?"
"That is quite impossible. Asafiel is relentless. One hour more and then he will carry you off."