This conqueror had a symbol of his triumphs : it was a blood-red flag that fluttered in the tainted air over the door of every dwelling into which the small-pox had entered . Such a banner was long since waving over the portal of the province-house , for thence , as was proved by tracking its footsteps back , had all this dreadful mischief issued . It had been traced back to a lady 's luxurious chamber , to the proudest of the proud , to her that was so delicate and hardly owned herself of earthly mould , to the haughty one who took her stand above human sympathies -- to Lady Eleanore . There remained no room for doubt that the contagion had lurked in that gorgeous mantle which threw so strange a grace around her at the festival . Its fantastic splendor had been conceived in the delirious brain of a woman on her death-bed and was the last toil of her stiffening fingers , which had interwoven fate and misery with its golden threads . This dark tale , whispered at first , was now bruited far and wide . The people raved against the Lady Eleanore and cried out that her pride and scorn had evoked a fiend , and that between them both this monstrous evil had been born . At times their rage and despair took the semblance of grinning mirth ; and whenever the red flag of the pestilence was hoisted over another and yet another door , they clapped their hands and shouted through the streets in bitter mockery : `` Behold a new triumph for the Lady Eleanore ! '' One day in the midst of these dismal times a wild figure approached the portal of the province-house , and , folding his arms , stood contemplating the scarlet banner , which a passing breeze shook fitfully , as if to fling abroad the contagion that it typified . At length , climbing one of the pillars by means of the iron balustrade , he took down the flag , and entered the mansion waving it above his head . At the foot of the staircase he met the governor , booted and spurred , with his cloak drawn around him , evidently on the point of setting forth upon a journey . `` Wretched lunatic , what do you seek here ? '' exclaimed Shute , extending his cane to guard himself from contact . `` There is nothing here but Death ; back , or you will meet him . '' `` Death will not touch me , the banner-bearer of the pestilence , '' cried Jervase Helwyse , shaking the red flag aloft . `` Death and the pestilence , who wears the aspect of the Lady Eleanore , will walk through the streets to-night , and I must march before them with this banner . '' `` Why do I waste words on the fellow ? '' muttered the governor , drawing his cloak across his mouth . `` What matters his miserable life , when none of us are sure of twelve hours ' breath ? -- On , fool , to your own destruction ! ''
He made way for Jervase Helwyse , who immediately ascended the staircase , but on the first landing-place was arrested by the firm grasp XXXXX a hand upon his shoulder .
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