"There is no use in your pleading," said Bluebeard; "you must certainly
die."

Then, seizing her by the hair with his left hand, he raised his
scimitar, preparing to strike off her head. The poor woman turned her
eyes upon him and begged for a single moment to collect her thoughts.
"No," he said; "not a moment more. Commend yourself to God."

He raised his arm to strike. Just at that moment there was a loud
knocking at the gate, and Bluebeard stopped short in his bloody work.
Two officers in uniform sprang into the castle and ran upon Bluebeard
with drawn swords. The cruel man, seeing they were his wife's brothers,
tried to escape, but they followed and overtook him before he had gone
twenty steps. Though he begged for mercy they listened not to a single
word, but thrust him through and through with their swords.

The poor wife, who was almost as dead as her lord, could hardly rise to
greet her brothers, but when she learned of Bluebeard's death she
quickly recovered and embraced them heartily.

Bluebeard, it was found, had no heirs, and so all his riches came into
the possession of his wife. She was filled with thankfulness at her
rescue, and in repentance for her curiosity she gave her sister a
generous portion of her money, and established her brothers in high
positions in the army.

As for herself, she afterwards married a worthy gentleman and lived
happily to a hale old age. The beautiful town and country houses were
constantly filled with guests, who, after they had convinced themselves
that the cruel master was actually dead, made the rooms ring with their