For, behold! I am Death." And his garments fell from him, and there appeared a mouldering skeleton, its ghastly head crowned with serpents; that which he had kept hidden under his mantle was an hour-glass with the sand almost run out.

Death held it towards the knight in his fleshless hand.

The bell at the neck of the little horse gave forth a solemn sound.

It was a passing bell.
"Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit!" prayed Sintram; and full of earnest devotion he rode after Death, who beckoned him on.
"He has thee not yet! He has thee not yet!" screamed the fearful fiend.
"Give thyself up to me rather.

In one instant,--for swift are thy thoughts, swift is my might,--in one instant thou shalt be in Normandy.
Helen yet blooms in beauty as when she departed hence, and this very night she would be thine." And once again he began his unholy praises of Gabrielle's loveliness, and Sintram's heart glowed like wild-fire in his weak breast.
Death said nothing more, but raised the hour-glass in his right hand yet higher and higher; and as the sand now ran out more quickly, a soft light streamed from the glass over Sintram's countenance, and then it seemed to him as if eternity in all its calm majesty were rising before him, and a world of confusion dragging him back with a deadly grasp.
"I command thee, wild form that followest me," cried he, "I command thee, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to cease from thy seducing words, and to call thyself by that name by which thou art recorded in Holy Writ!" A name, more fearful than a thunderclap, burst despairingly from the lips of the Tempter, and he disappeared.
"He will return no more," said Death, in a kindly tone.
"And now I am become wholly thine, my stern companion ?" "Not yet, my Sintram.