Seemingly hemmed in by an obstacle, the nature, which he knew not, she stood before him paralyzed with horror. As his hand went out towards her, the gesture seemed to break the spell, and uttering a despairing shriek, she sprang towards a door behind the landing and rushed out.
Eckhardt's breath stopped.
A moment,—he heard an outcry of inexpressible horror,—a struggle, then a hollow dash. Hardly conscious of his own actions he uttered a shrill whistle, when the door of the tower was broken down, and the stairs were suddenly crowded with the soldiers of the imperial guard, whom the conflagration had brought to the scene.
"What woman was that?" exclaimed their leader, pointing to the place whence Theodora had made the fatal leap.
"Whoever she is—she must be dashed to pieces," replied his companion, rushing up the stairs to the trap-door and throwing his lighted torch down the murky depths. But the light was soon lost in the profound gloom.
"A rope! A rope! She must not, she shall not die thus!" cried Eckhardt in mad, heart-rending despair.
"Here is one, but it is not long enough!" exclaimed the captain of the guard, hardly able to conceal his mortification at finding himself face to face with his general.
"Hark! She groans! Help! Help me!" exclaimed Eckhardt, and tearing his cloak into strips, he fastened them together. The work was swiftly completed. These strips fastened to the rope and securely knotted, Eckhardt tied around his waist, and though the leader of the men-at-arms sought to dissuade him from his desperate purpose, he started down, clinging and swinging over a dreadful depth.
The captain of the guard swung the torch down after him as far as possible, but soon the light grew misty, the voices above indistinct, and it seemed to Eckhardt as if he were encompassed by a black mist. Still he continued his descent. His next sensation was that of an intolerable stench and a burning heat in the hand, caused no doubt by friction with the rope. A difficulty in breathing, increased darkness and singing noises in his ears were successive sensations; he began to feel dizzy and a dread assailed him, that he was about to swoon and abandon his hold. Suddenly he felt the last notch of the rope and, not knowing what depth remained, argued that any further effort was in vain. Extending first one arm, then another, he groped wildly about, striving to shout for light; but his voice died in the gloom. Gasping and almost stifled as he was, he made one last desperate effort, when suddenly his groping hand grasped something, which appeared to him either like hair or weeds. At this critical moment the captain of the guard sent down a lamp, which he had procured. It fell hissing in the mire, but it afforded him sufficient light to see that the object of his search lay buried in the slime, and that she was gasping convulsively. Eckhardt's strength was now almost spent, but this sight seemed to restore it all. Noting a projecting ledge of stone lower down, he leaped upon it and was thus obliged to abandon his hold on the rope. Eckhardt seized the woman by the gown, dragged her from the mire and making a desperate leap, regained the ledge, then signalled to those above to draw him up by jerking the rope.
Motionless she lay on his arm and it was only by twisting it in a peculiar manner round the rope, that he was enabled to support the terrible burden. For a time they hung suspended over the abyss, yet they were gradually nearing the top. If he could only endure the agony of his twisted limbs a little longer, both were safe. He could not shout, for he felt that suffocation must ensue; his eyes and ears seemed bursting as from some stunning weight; and a deadly faintness seemed to benumb his limbs. Suddenly, as by some miracle, the burden seemed lightened, though he felt it still reclining in his arms. A wonderful support seemed to raise up his own sinking frame, then all grew bright and numerous faces strained down on him. In a few moments he was on a level with the floor and many arms stretched out, to help him land. Heedless of the roaring sea of fire in the pavilion, they carried the wretched woman to the landing, where they laid her on the floor, attempting, for a time in vain, to restore her. She seemed suffering from some severe internal injury and her lips bubbled with gore. At length she opened her eyes and with a shriek of agony made signs that she was suffocating and desired to be raised. Eckhardt, who stood beside her, raised her, and as he did so, she regarded him with a wild and piteous gaze and murmured his name in a tone which went to the heart of all.