And in very truth they saw now a great red flame, mounting heavenwards,
in the midst of the smoke.
"He is about to die," said the widow. "O Lord, of your mercy receive
the soul of this innocent. Where is the King, that I may go and tear
out his heart with my nails?"
And all the while the bells of Notre Dame kept tolling for the
dead. Yet again did Soetkin hear a great cry from her husband; but
mercifully she was spared the sight of his body writhing in the agony
of the fire, and his twisted face, and his head that he turned from
side to side and beat upon the wood of the stake. Meanwhile the crowd
continued to shout and to hiss, and the boys threw stones, until all
of a sudden the whole pile of wood caught alight, and the voice of
Claes was heard crying out from the midst of the flame and smoke:
"Soetkin! Tyl!"
And then his head fell down upon his breast as though it were made
of lead.
And there came a cry, most piteous and piercing, from the cottage of
Katheline; and after that there was silence, except for the poor mad
woman wagging her head and saying:
"My soul wants to get out!"
Claes was dead. The fire burned itself away, smouldering at the foot
of the stake whereon the poor body still hung by its neck.
And the bells of Notre Dame tolled for the dead.