e page.

They were in a language, whose import was totally unknown to him.

Scarce had He pronounced the last word when the effects of the charm
were evident. A loud burst of Thunder was heard; The prison shook to
its very foundations; A blaze of lightning flashed through the Cell;
and in the next moment, borne upon sulphurous whirl-winds, Lucifer
stood before him a second time. But He came not as when at Matilda's
summons He borrowed the Seraph's form to deceive Ambrosio. He appeared
in all that ugliness which since his fall from heaven had been his
portion: His blasted limbs still bore marks of the Almighty's thunder:
A swarthy darkness spread itself over his gigantic form: His hands and
feet were armed with long Talons: Fury glared in his eyes, which might
have struck the bravest heart with terror: Over his huge shoulders
waved two enormous sable wings; and his hair was supplied by living
snakes, which twined themselves round his brows with frightful
hissings. In one hand He held a roll of parchment, and in the other an
iron pen. Still the lightning flashed around him, and the Thunder with
repeated bursts, seemed to announce the dissolution of Nature.

Terrified at an Apparition so different from what He had expected,
Ambrosio remained gazing upon the Fiend, deprived of the power of
utterance. The Thunder had ceased to roll: Universal silence reigned
through the dungeon.

'For what am I summoned hither?' said the Daemon, in a voice which
sulphurous fogs had damped to hoarseness--

At the sound Nature seemed to tremble: A violent earthquake rocked the
ground, accompanied by a fresh burst of Thunder, louder and more
appalling than the first.

Ambrosio was long unable to answer the Daemon's demand.

'I am condemned to die;' He said with a faint voice, his blood running
cold, while He gazed upon his dreadful Visitor. 'Save me! Bear me
from hence!'

'Shall the reward of my services be paid me? Dare you embrace my
cause? Will you be mine, body and soul? Are you prepared to renounce
him who made you, and him who died for you? Answer but "Yes" and
Lucifer is your Slave.'

'Will no less price content you? Can nothing satisfy you but my
eternal ruin? Spirit, you ask too much. Yet convey me from this
dungeon: Be my Servant for one hour, and I will be yours for a
thousand years. Will not this offer suffice?'

'It will not. I must have your soul; must have it mine, and mine for
ever.'

'Insatiat