The Transferred Ghost by Frank R. Stockton. Reading by Greg Marguerite. The Transferred Ghost by Frank R. Stockton. The country residence of Mr. John Hengman was a delightful place to me for many reasons. It was the abode of a genial, though somewhat impulsive hospitality. It had broad, smooth-shaven lawns and towering oaks and elms. There were bosky shades at several points, and not far from the house there was a little rill spanned by a rustic bridge with the bark on. Fruits and flowers, pleasant people, chess, billiards, rides, walks, and fishing. These were great attractions, but none of them, nor all of them together would have been sufficient to hold me to the place very long. I had been invited for the trout season, but should probably have finished my visit early in the summer had it not been that upon fair days, when the grass was dry and the sun was not too hot, and there was but little wind, there strolled beneath the lofty elms, or passed lightly through the bosky shades the form of my Madeline. This lady was not, in very truth, my Madeline. She had never given herself to me, nor had I in any way acquired possession of her. But as I considered her possession the only sufficient reason for the continuance of my existence I called her in my reveries mine. It may have been that I would not have been obliged to confine the use of this possessive pronoun to my reveries had I confessed the state of my feelings to the lady. But this was an unusually difficult thing to do. Not only did I dread, as almost all lovers dread, taking the step which would in an instant put an end to that delightful season which may be termed the anti-interrogatory period of love, and which might at the same time terminate all intercourse or connection with the object of my passion. But I was also dreadfully afraid of John Hinkman. This gentleman was a good friend of mine, but it would have required a bolder man than I was at that time to ask him for the gift of his niece, who was the head of his household, and according to his own frequent statement the main prop of his declining years. Had Madeleine acquiesced in my general views on the subject I might have felt encouraged to open the matter to Mr. Hinkman, but as I said before I had never asked her whether or not she would be mine. I thought of these things at all hours of the day and night, particularly the latter. I was lying awake one night in the great bed in my spacious chamber when, by the dim light of the new moon which partially filled the room, I saw John Hinkman standing by a large chair near the door. I was very much surprised at this for two reasons. In the first place my host had never before come into my room, and in the second place he had gone from home that morning and had not expected to return for several days. It was for this reason that I had been able that evening to sit much later than usual with Madeleine on the moonlit porch. The figure was certainly that of John Hinkman in his ordinary dress, but there was a vagueness and indistinctness about it which presently assured me that it was a ghost. Had the good old man been murdered, and had his spirit come to tell me of the deed and to confide to me the protection of his dear—my heart fluttered at what I was about to think, but at this instant the figure spoke. "'Do you know,' he said with a countenance that indicated anxiety, "'if Mr. Hinkman will return tonight?' I thought it well to maintain a calm exterior, and I answered, "'We do not expect him.' "'I am glad of that,' said he, sinking into the chair by which he stood. During the two years and a half that I have inhabited this house, that man has never before been away for a single night. You can't imagine the relief it gives me.' And as he spoke he stretched out his legs and leaned back in the chair. His form became less vague and the colors of his garments more distinct and evident, while an expression of gratified relief succeeded to the anxiety of his countenance. "'Two years and a half,' I exclaimed. I—I don't understand you.' "'It is fully that length of time,' said the ghost, "'since I first came here. Mine is not an ordinary case, but before I say anything more about it, let me ask you again if you are sure Mr. Hinkman will not return tonight.' "'I am as sure of it as I can be of anything,' I answered. He left today for Bristol, two hundred miles away.' "'Then I will go on,' said the ghost, for I am glad to have the opportunity of talking to someone who will listen to me. But if John Hinkman should come in and catch me here I should be frightened out of my wits.' "'This is all very strange,' I said, greatly puzzled by what I had heard.  "'Then yet I have no right to be. And this is what makes me so uneasy and so much afraid of him. It is a strange story, and I truly believe without precedent. Two years and a half ago John Hinkman was dangerously ill in this very room. At one time he was so far gone that he was really believed to be dead. It was in consequence of two precipitate a report in regard to this matter that I was, at that time, appointed to be his ghost. "'Imagine my surprise and horror, sir, when, after I had accepted the position and assumed its responsibilities, that old man revived, became convalescent, and eventually regained his usual health. My situation was now one of extreme delicacy and embarrassment. I had no power to return to my original unembodiment, and I had no right to be the ghost of a man who was not dead. I was advised by my friends to quietly maintain my position and was assured that, as John Hinkman was an elderly man, it could not be long before I could rightfully assume the position for which I had been selected. But I tell you, sir, he continued with animation. The old fellow seems as vigorous as ever, and I have no idea how much longer this annoying state of things will continue.  I must not leave this house, and he seems to follow me everywhere. I tell you, sir, he haunts me. That is truly a queer state of things, I remarked. But why are you afraid of him? He couldn't hurt you. Of course he couldn't, said the ghost, but his very presence is a shock and terror to me. Imagine, sir, how you would feel if my case were yours. I could not imagine such a thing at all. I simply shuddered. And if one must be a wrongful ghost at all, the apparition continued. It would be much pleasanter to be the ghost of some man other than John Hinkman. There is in him an irascibility of temper, accompanied by a facility of invective which is seldom met with. And what would happen if he were to see me and find out, as I am sure he would, how long and why I had inhabited his house I can scarcely conceive? I have seen him in his bursts of passion, and although he did not hurt the people he stormed at any more than he would hurt me, they seemed to shrink before him. All this I knew to be very true. Had it not been for the peculiarity of Mr. Hinkman, I might have been more willing to talk to him about his niece. I feel sorry for you, I said, for I really began to have a sympathetic feeling towards this unfortunate apparition. Your case is indeed a hard one. It reminds me of those persons who have had doubles, and I suppose a man would often be very angry indeed when he found that there was another being who was personating himself. Oh, the cases are not similar at all, said the ghost. A double or doppelganger lives on the earth with a man, and being exactly like him he makes all sorts of trouble, of course. It is very different with me. I am not here to live with Mr. Hinkman. I am here to take his place. Now it would make John Hinkman very angry if he knew that. Don't you know it would? I assented promptly. Now that he is away, I can be easy for a little while, continued the ghost, and I am so glad to have an opportunity of talking to you. I have frequently come into your room and watched you while you slept, but did not dare to speak to you for fear that if you talked with me Mr. Hinkman would hear you and come into the room to know why you were talking to yourself. But would he not hear you? I asked. Oh, no, said the other. There are times when anyone may see me, but no one hears me except the person to whom I address myself. But why did you wish to speak to me? I asked. Because, replied the ghost, I like occasionally to talk to people, and especially to someone like yourself whose mind is so troubled and perturbed that you are not likely to be frightened by a visit from one of us. But I particularly wanted to ask you to do me a favor. There is every probability so far as I can see that John Hinkman will live a long time, and my situation is becoming insupportable. My great object at present is to get myself transferred, and I think that you may perhaps be of use to me. Transferred, I exclaimed. What do you mean by that? What I mean, said the other, is this. Now that I have started on my career I have got to be the ghost of somebody, and I want to be the ghost of a man who is really dead. I should think that would be easy enough, I said. Opportunities must continually occur. Not at all, not at all, said my companion quickly. You have no idea what a rush and pressure there is for situations of this kind. Whenever a vacancy occurs, if I may express myself in that way, there are crowds of applications for the ghost ship. I had no idea that such a state of things existed, I said, becoming quite interested in the matter. There ought to be some regular system or order of precedence by which you could all take your turns, like customers in a barber's shop. Oh dear, that would never do at all, said the other. Some of us would have to wait forever. There is always a great rush whenever a good ghost ship offers itself. Well, as you know there are some positions that no one would care for, and it was in consequence of my being in too great a hurry on an occasion of the kind that I got myself into my present disagreeable predicament, and I have thought that it might be possible that you would help me out of it. You might know of a case where an opportunity for a ghost ship was not generally expected, but which might present itself at any moment. If you would give me short notice, I know I could arrange for a transfer. What do you mean? I exclaimed.  Oh, no, no, no, said the other with a vapory smile. I mean nothing of that kind. To be sure there are lovers who are watched with considerable interest, such persons having been known in moments of depression to offer very desirable ghost ships. But I did not think of anything of that kind in connection with you. You were the only person I cared to speak to, and I hoped that you might give me some information that would be of use, and in return I shall be very glad to help you in your love affair. You seem to know that I have such an affair, I said. Oh, yes, replied the other with a little yawn. I could not be here so much as I have been without knowing all about that. There was something horrible in the idea of Madeline and myself having been watched by a ghost, even perhaps when we wandered together in the most delightful and bosky places. But then this was quite an exceptional ghost, and I could not have the objections to him which would ordinarily arise in regard to beings of his class. I must go now, said the ghost rising, but I will see you somewhere tomorrow night, and remember, you help me, and I'll help you. I had doubts the next morning as to the propriety of telling Madeline anything about this interview, and soon convinced myself that I must keep silent on the subject. If she knew there was a ghost about the house, she would probably leave the place instantly. I did not mention the matter, and so regulated my demeanor that I am quite sure Madeline never suspected what had taken place. For some time I had wished that Mr. Hinckman would absent himself for a day at least from the premises. In such case I thought I might more easily nerve myself up to the point of speaking to Madeline on the subject of our future collateral existence. Now that the opportunity for such a speech had really occurred, I did not feel ready to avail myself of it. What would become of me if she refused me? I had an idea, however, that the lady thought that if I were going to speak at all, this was the time. She must have known that certain sentiments were afloat within me, and she was not unreasonable in her wish to see the matter settled one way or the other. But I did not feel like taking a bold step in the dark. If she wished me to ask her to give herself to me, she ought to offer me some reason to suppose that she would make the gift. If I saw no probability of such generosity I would prefer that things should remain as they were. That evening I was sitting with Madeline in the moonlit porch. It was nearly ten o'clock, and ever since supper time I had been working myself up to the point of making an avowal of my sentiments. I had not positively determined to do this, but wished gradually to reach the proper point when, if the prospect looked bright, I might speak. My companion appeared to understand the situation. At least I imagined that the nearer I came to a proposal the more she seemed to expect it. It was certainly a very critical and important epoch in my life. If I spoke, I should make myself happy or miserable forever, and if I did not speak, I had every reason to believe that the lady would not give me another chance to do so. Sitting thus with Madeline, talking a little and thinking very hard over these momentous matters, I looked up and saw the ghost, not a dozen feet away from us. He was sitting on the railing of the porch, one leg thrown up before him, the other dangling down as he leaned against a post. He was behind Madeline, but almost in front of me as I sat facing the lady. It was fortunate that Madeline was looking out over the landscape, for I must have appeared very much startled. The ghost had told me that he would see me some time this night, but I did not think he would make his appearance when I was in the company of Madeline. If she should see the spirit of her uncle, I could not answer for the consequences. I made no exclamation, but the ghost evidently saw that I was troubled. Don't be afraid, he said. I shall not let her see me, but she cannot hear me speak unless I address myself to her, which I do not intend to do. I suppose I looked grateful. So you need not trouble yourself about that. The ghost continued, but it seems to me that you are not getting along very well with your affair.  You will never have a better chance. You are not likely to be interrupted, and so far as I can judge, the lady is supposed to listen to you favorably. That is, if she ever intends to do so. There is no knowing when John Hinkman will go away again. Certainly not this summer. If I were in your place, I should never dare to make love to Hinkman's niece if he were anywhere about the place. If he should catch anyone offering himself to Miss Madeline, he would then be a terrible man to encounter her. I agreed perfectly to all this. I cannot bear to think of him. I ejaculated aloud. Think of whom? Asked Madeline, turning quickly toward me. Here was an awkward situation. The long speech of the ghost to which Madeline paid no attention, but which I heard with perfect distinctness had made me forget myself. It was necessary to explain quickly. Of course it would not do to admit that it was of her dear uncle that I was speaking, and so I mentioned hastily the first name I thought of. Mr. Villars, I said. This statement was entirely correct, for I never could bear to think of Mr. Villars, who was a gentleman who had at various times paid much attention to Madeline. It is wrong for you to speak in that way of Mr. Villars, she said. He is a remarkably well-educated and sensible young man, and has very pleasant manners. He expects to be elected to the legislature this fall, and I should not be surprised if he made his mark. He will do well in a legislative body, for whenever Mr. Villars has anything to say, he knows just how and when to say it. This was spoken very quietly, and without any show of resentment which was all very natural, for if Madeline thought at all favorably of me, she could not feel displeased that I should have disagreeable emotions in regard to a possible rival. The concluding words contained a question that was not slow to understand. I felt very sure that if Mr. Villars were in my present position he would speak quickly enough. I know it is wrong to have such ideas about a person, I said, but I cannot help it. The lady did not chide me, and after this she seemed even in a softer mood. As for me, I felt considerably annoyed, for I had not wished to admit that any thought of Mr. Villars had been wrong. You should not speak aloud that way, said the ghost, or you may get yourself into trouble. I want to see everything go well with you, because then you may be disposed to help me, especially if I should chance to be of any assistance to you which I hope I shall be. I longed to tell him that there was no way in which he could help me so much as by taking his instant departure, to make a railing nearby, and that ghost the apparition of a much dreaded uncle, the very idea of whom in such a position that such a time made me tremble, was a difficult, if not an impossible thing to do. But I forbore to speak, although I may have looked my mind. I suppose, continued the ghost, that you have not heard anything that might be of advantage to me. Of course, I am very anxious to hear, but wait until you are alone.  You need not wait here, I said. I have nothing at all to say to you.  Wait here, she cried. What do you suppose I am waiting for? Nothing to say to me, indeed. I should think so. You have to say to me. Madeline, I exclaimed, stepping toward her. Let me explain. But she had gone. Here was the end of the world for me. I turned fiercely to the ghost. Wretched existence, I cried. You have runned everything. You have blackened my whole life. Had it not been for you. But here my voice faltered. I could say no more. Said the ghost, I have not injured you. I have tried only to encourage and assist you, and it is your own folly that has done this mischief. But do not despair. Such mistakes as these can be explained. Keep up a brave heart. Goodbye. And he vanished from the railing like a bursting soap bubble. I went gloomily to bed, but I saw no apparitions that night except those of despair and misery which my wretched thoughts and the words I had uttered had sounded to Madeline like the basest insult. Of course, there was only one interpretation she could put upon them. As to explaining my ejaculations, that was impossible. I thought the matter over and over again as I lay awake that night, and I determined that I would never tell Madeline the facts of the case. It would be better for me to suffer all my life than for her to know that the ghost Pinkman was away, and if she knew of his ghost she could not be made to believe that he was not dead. She might not survive the shock. No. My heart could bleed, but I would never tell her. The next day was fine, neither too cool nor too warm. The breezes were gentle and nature smiled. But there were no walks or rides with Madeline. She seemed to be much engaged during the day, and I saw but her. When we met at meals she was polite but very quiet and reserved. She had evidently determined on a course of conduct and had resolved to assume that, although I had been very rude to her she did not understand the import of my words. It would be quite proper, of course, for her not to know what I meant by my expressions of the night before. I was downcast and wretched, and said but little, and the only streak across the black horizon of my woe was the fact that she did not appear to be happy, although she affected an air of unconcern. The moonlit porch was deserted that evening, but wandering about the house I found Madeline in the library alone. She was reading but I went in and sat down near her. I felt that although I could not do so fully I must in a measure explain my conduct of the night before. She listened quietly in a somewhat labored apology I made for the words I had used. I had not the slightest idea what you meant, she said, but you were very rude.  I said a great deal upon the subject and implored her to believe that if it were not an obstacle I could speak to her so plainly that she would understand everything. She was silent for a time. And then she said, rather more kindly I thought than she had spoken before, is that obstacle in any way connected with my uncle? Yes, I answered after a little hesitation. It is in a measure connected with him. She made no answer to this and sat looking at her book but not reading. From the expression of her face I thought she was somewhat softened toward me. She knew her uncle as well as I did, and she may have been thinking that if he were the obstacle that prevented my speaking, and there were many ways in which he might be that obstacle, my position would be such a hard one that it would excuse some wildness of speech and eccentricity of manner. I saw too that the warmth of my partial explanations had some effect on her, and I began to believe that it might be a good thing for me to speak my mind without delay. No matter how she should receive my proposition my relations with her could not be worse than they had been the previous night and day, and there was something in her face which encouraged me to hope that she might forget my foolish exclamations of the evening before if I began to tell her my tale of love. I drew my chair a little nearer to her, and as I did so the ghost burst into the room from the doorway behind her. I say burst, although no door flew open and he made no noise. He was wildly excited and waved his arms above his head. The moment I saw him my heart fell within me. With the entrance of that impertinent apparition every hope fled from me I could not speak while he was in the room. I must have turned pale, and I gazed steadfastly at the ghost almost without seeing Madeline who sat between us. Do you know he cried that John Hinkman is coming up the hill? He will be here at fifteen minutes, and if you are doing anything in the way of love-making you had better hurry it up. But this is not what I came to tell you. I have glorious news. At last I am transferred. Not forty minutes ago a Russian nobleman was murdered by the nihilists. Nobody ever thought of him in connection with an immediate ghost ship. My friends instantly applied for the situation for me and obtained my transfer. I am off before that horrid Hinkman comes up the hill. The moment I reach my new position I shall put off this hated semblance. Goodbye. You can't imagine how glad I am to be at last the real ghost of somebody. Ah! I cried, rising to my feet and stretching out my arms in utter wretchedness. I would to heaven you were mine. I am yours, said Madeline, raising to me her tearful eyes. End of The Transferred Ghost by Frank R Stockton Wake Not The Dead by Johann Ludwig Teak This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Morgan Scorpion Wake Not The Dead by Johann Ludwig Teak Wilt thou for ever sleep? Wilt thou never more awake, my beloved? But henceforth repose for ever from thy short pilgrimage on earth? O yet once again return and bring back with thee the vivifying dawn of hope to one whose existence hath, since thy departure, been obscured by the dunnest shades. What! dumb? For ever dumb? Thy friend Lamentith, and though lest him not, he sheds bitter, scolding tears, and thou reposest unregarding his affliction, he is in despair, and thou no longer openest thy arms to him as an asylum from his grief? Say then, doth the paley shroud become thee better than the bridal veil? Is the chamber of the grave a warmer bed than the couch of love? Is the spectre death more welcome to thy arms than thy enamoured consort? O return, my beloved, return once again to this anxious, disconsolate bosom. Such were the Lamentations which Walter poured forth for his Brunhilde, the partner of his youthful, passionate love. Thus did he be wail over her grave at the midnight hour. What time the spirit that presides in the troublous atmosphere sends his legions of monsters through mid-air, so that their shadows as they fit beneath the moon and across the earth, dot, as wild, agitating thoughts that chase each other over the sinner's bosom. Thus did he lament under the tall linden trees by her grave, while his head reclined on the cold stone. Walter was a powerful lord in Burgundy, who, in his earliest youth, had been smitten with the charms of the fair Brunhilde, a beauty far surpassing in loveliness all her rivals, for her tresses, dark as the raven face of night, streaming over her shoulders, set off to the utmost advantage the beaming luster of her slender form, and the rich dye of a cheek whose tint was deep and brilliant as that of the western heaven. Her eyes did not resemble those burning orbs whose pale glow gems the vault of night, and whose innumerable distance fills the soul with deep thoughts of eternity, but rather as the sober beams which cheer this netherworld, and which, while they enlighten, kindle the sons of earth to joy and love. Brunhilde became the wife of Walter, and both being equally enamoured and devoted, they abandoned themselves to the enjoyment of a passion which rendered them reckless of ought besides, while it lulled them in a fascinating dream. Their sole apprehension was lest ought should awaken them from a delirium which they prayed might continue for ever. Yet how vain is the wish that would arrest the decrees of destiny, as well might it seek to divert the circling planets from their eternal course. Short was the duration of this frenzied passion, not that it gradually decayed and subsided into apathy, but death snatched away his blooming victim, and left Walter to a widowed couch. Impetuous, however, as was his first burst of grief, he was not inconsolable, for ere long another bride became the partner of the youthful nobleman. Brunhilde was also beautiful, though nature had formed her charms on a very different model from those of Brunhilde. Her golden locks waved bright as the beams of mourn. Only when excited by some emotion of her soul did a rosy hue tinge the lily-pelness of her cheek. Her limbs were proportioned in the nicest symmetry, yet did they not possess that luxuriant fullness of animal life? Her eye beamed eloquently, but it was with the milder reagents of a star, tranquilising to tenderness rather than exciting to warmth. Thus formed it was not possible that she should steep him in his former delirium, although she rendered happy his waking hours, tranquil and serious, yet cheerful, studying in all things her husband's pleasure, she restored order and comfort in his family, where her presence shed a general influence all round. Her mild benevolence tended to restrain the fiery, impetuous disposition of Walter, while at the same time her parents recalled him in some degree from his vain, turbulent wishes and his aspiring after unattainable enjoyments to the duties and pleasures of actual life.  The latter was mild and patient as her mother, well contented with her solitary sports, and even in these recreations displayed the serious tone of her character. The boy possessed his father's fiery, relentless disposition, tempered, however, with the solidity of his mother. Attached by his offspring more tenderly towards their mother, Walter now lived for several years very happily. His thoughts would frequently, indeed, recur to Brunhilda, but without their form of violence, merely as we dwell upon the memory of a friend of our earlier days, born from us on the rapid current of time to a region where we know that he is happy. But clouds dissolve into air. Flowers fade. The sounds of the hourglass run imperceptibly away, and even so do human feelings dissolve, fade and pass away, and with them too human happiness. Walter's inconstant breasts again sighed for the ecstatic dreams of those days which he had spent with his equally romantic enamoured Brunhilda. Again did she present herself to his ardent fancy in all the glow of her bridal charms, and he began to draw parallel the past and the present. Nor did imagination, as is its want, fail to array the former in her brightest hues, while it proportionably obscured the latter, so that he pictured who himself, the one much more rich in enjoyment, and the other much less so than they really were. This change in her husband did not escape Brunhilda, whereupon redoubling her attentions towards him, and her cares towards their children, expected by this means to reunite the knot that was slackened. Yet the more she endeavoured to regain his affections, the colder did he grow, the more intolerable did her caresses seem, and the more continually did the image of Brunhilda haunt his thoughts. The children whose endeavours were now become indispensable to him, alone stood between the parents as Jean-E, eager to affect her reconciliation, and beloved by them both formed a uniting link between them. Yet, as evil can be plucked from the heart of man only ere its root has yet struck deep, its fangs being afterwards too firm to be eradicated, so was Walter's disease fancy too far affected to have its disorder stopped, for in a short time it completely tyrannised over him. Frequently overnight, instead of retiring to its consort's chamber, he repaired to Brunhilda's grave where he murmured forth his disconsent saying, Wilk thou sleep for ever? One night, as he was reclining on the turf, indulging in his wanted sorrow, a sorcerer from the neighbouring mountains entered into this field of death for the purpose of gathering, for his mystic spells, such herbs as grow only from the earth wherein the dead repose, and which, as if the last production of mortality, are gifted with a powerful and supernatural influence. The sorcerer perceived the mourner and approached the spot where he was lying. Wherefore, fond wretch, dost thou grieve thus, for what is now a hideous mass of mortality, mere bones and nerves and veins, nations have fallen unlamented, even worlds themselves, long ere this globe of ours was created, have moulded into nothing, nor has any one wept over them. Why, then, should thou indulge this vain affliction for a child of the dust, a being as frail as thyself, and like thee, the creature but of a moment? Walter raised himself up. Let young worlds that shine in the firmament, replied he, lament for each other as they perish. It is true that I who am myself clay lament for my fellow clay, yet is this clay impregnated with a fire, with an essence that none of the elements of creation possess, with love, and this divine passion I feel for her who now sleepeth beneath this sod. Wilt thy complaints awaken her, or could they do so, would she not soon upgrade thee for having disturbed that repose in which she is now harshed? Avant, cold-hearted being, thou knowest not what is love. O that my tears could wash away the earthly covering that conceals her from these eyes, that my groan of anguish could rouse her from her slumber of death. No, she would not again seek her earthly couch. Incensate that thou art, and couldst thou endure to gaze without shuddering on one disgorged from the jaws of the grave. Art thou, too, thyself the same from whom she parted, or hast time past all thy brow and left no traces there? Would not thy love rather be converted into hate and disgust? Say rather that the sun would leave young firmament, that the sun would leave the heavens. O that she stood once more before me, that once again she reposed on this bosom. How quickly should we then forget that death or time had ever stepped between us? Delusion, mere delusion of the brain from heated blood, like to that which arises from the fumes of wine. It is not my wish to tempt thee to restore to thee thy dead, else would thou soon feel that I have spoken truth. Restore to me, exclaimed Walter, casting himself at the sorcerer's feet. O, if thou art indeed able to effect that, grant it to my earnest supplication. If one throb of human feeling vibrates in thy bosom, let my tears prevail with thee. Restore to me, my beloved, so shalt thou hereafter bless the deed, and see that it was a good work. A good work? A blessed deed? return the sorcerer with a smile of scorn. For me there exists nor good nor evil, since my will is always the same. Ye alone know evil, who will that which ye would not. It is indeed in my power to restore her to thee, yet, be think thee well, whether it will prove thy will. Consider, too, how deep the abyss between life and death. Across this my power can build a bridge, but it can never fill up the frightful chasm. Walter would have spoken, and have sought to prevail on this powerful being by fresh entreaties, but the latter prevented him saying, Peace, be think thee well, and return hither to me tomorrow at midnight. Yet once more do I warn thee, wake not the dead. Having uttered these words, the mysterious being disappeared. Intoxicated with fresh hope, Walter found no sleep on his couch, for fancy, prodigal of her richest stores, expanded for him the glittering web of futurity, and his eye, moistened with the dew of rapture, glanced from one vision of happiness to another. During the next day he wandered through the woods, less wanted objects by recalling the memory of later and less happier times might disturb the blissful idea that he should again behold her. Again, fold her in his arms, gaze on her beaming brow by day, repose on her bosom at night, and, as this sole idea filled his imagination, how was it possible that the least doubt should arise, or that the warning of the mysterious old man should recur to his thoughts. No sooner did the midnight hour approach than he hastened before the grave-field where the sorcerer was already standing by that of Brunhilde. Hast thou maturely considered? inquired he. Oh! restore to me the object of my ardent passion! exclaimed Walter with impetuous eagerness.  Well then, answered the old man, return hither again to Morrow at the same hour. But once more do I give thee this friendly warning. Wake not the dead! All in the despair of impatience Walter would have frustrated himself at his feet, and supplicated him to fulfil at once the desire now increased to agony, but the sorcerer had already disappeared. Pouring forth his lamentations more wildly and impetuously than ever, he lay upon the grave of his adored one, until the gray dawn streaked the east. During the day which seemed to him longer than any he had ever experienced, he wandered to and fro, restless and impatient, seemingly without any object, and deeply buried in his own reflections, as the murderer who meditates his first deed of blood, and the stars of evening found him once more at the appointed spot. At midnight the sorcerer was there also. Hustle maturely deliberated, inquired he, as on the preceding night. Oh, what should I deliberate? returned Walter impatiently. I need not deliberate. What I demand of thee is that which thou hast promised me, that which will prove my bliss. But mock me, if so, hence from my sight, lest I be tempted to lay my hand on thee. Once more do I warn thee, answered the old man with undisturbed composure. Wake not the dead. Let her rest. I, but not in the cold grave, she shall rather rest on this bosom which burns with eagerness to clasp her. Reflect, thou most not quit her until death, even though aversion and horror should seize thy heart. There would then remain only one horrible means. Dotted, cried Walter, interrupting him. How may I hate that which I love with such an intensity of passion? How should I abhor that for which my every drop of blood is boiling? Then be it even as thou wishest, answered the sorcerer. Step back. The old man now drew a circle round the grave, all the while muttering words of enchantment. Immediately the storm began to howl among the tops of the trees. Owls flapped their wings and uttered their low voice of omen. The stars hid their mild, beaming aspect, that they might not behold so unholy an impious aspectacle. The stone then rolled from the grave with a hollow sound, leaving a free passage for the inhabitant of that dreadful tenement. The sorcerer scattered into the yawning earth roots and herbs of most magic power and of most penetrating odor, so that the worms crawling forth from the earth congregated together and raised themselves in a fiery column over the grave, while rushing wind burst from the earth, scattering the mould before it, until at length the coffin lay uncovered. The moonbeams fell on it and the lid burst open with a tremendous sound.  And after a short pause, shedding on her some other mystic liquid, he cried aloud with the voice of one inspired. Yes, thy heart beats once more with the flood of life, thine eye is again open to sight, arise therefore from the tomb. As an island suddenly springs forth from the dark waves of the ocean, raised upwards from the deep by the force of subterraneous fires, so did Brunhilde start from her earthly couch, borne forward by some invisible power. Taking her by the hand, the sorcerer led her towards Walter, who stood at some little distance, rooted to the ground with amazement. Receive again, said he, the object of thy passionate size. Mace down nevermore require my aid. Should that however happen, sow what thou find me during the full of the moon, upon the mountains in that spot where the clouds meet. Instantly did Walter recognize in the form that stood before him, her whom he so ardently loved, and a sudden glow shot through his frame at finding her thus restored to him. Yet the night-frost had chilled his limbs and pulsed his tongue. For a while he gazed upon her without either motion or speech, and during this pause all was again become hushed and serene, and the stars shone brightly in the clear heavens. Walter! exclaimed the figure, and at once the well-known sound thrilling to his heart broke the spell by which he was bound. Is it reality? Is it truth, quite he, or a cheating delusion? No, it is no imposture. I am really living. Conduct me quickly to thy castle in the mountains. Walter looked round. The old man had disappeared, but he perceived close by his side a coal-black steed of fiery eye, ready equipped to conduct him thence, and on his back lay all proper attire for Brunhilde, who lost no time in arraying herself. This being done, she cried, Haste! let us away ere the dawn breaks, for my eye is yet too weak to endure the light of day. Fully recovered from his stupa, Walter leapt into his saddle, and catching up with a mingled feeling of delight and awe, the beloved being thus mysterious restored from the power of the grave, he spurred on across the wild, towards the mountains, as furiously as if pursued by the shadows of the dead, hastening to recover from him their sister. The castle to which Walter conducted his Brunhilde was situated on a rock between other rocks rising up above it. Here they arrived, unseen by any save-one aged domestic, on whom Walter imposed secrecy by the severest threats. Here we will tarry, said Brunhilde, until I can endure the light, and until thou canst look upon me without trembling as if struck with a cold chill.  During seven entire days they had no light except that of tapers. During the next seven the light was admitted through the lofty casements only while the rising or setting sun faintly illuminated the mountaintops, the valley being still enveloped in shade. Seldom did Walter quit Brunhilde's side. A nameless spell seemed to attach him to her. Even the shudder which he felt in her presence and which would not permit him to touch her was not unmixed with pleasure. Like that thrilling awful emotion felt when strains of sacred music float under the vault of some temple. He rather sought, therefore, than avoided this feeling. Often, too, as he had indulged in calling to mind the beauties of Brunhilde, she had never appeared so fair, so fascinating, so admirable when depicted by imagination as when now beheld in reality. Never till now had her voice sounded with such tones of sweetness. Never before did her language possess such eloquence as it now did when she conversed with him on the subject of the past. And this was the magic fairyland towards which her words constantly conducted him. Ever did she dwell upon the days of their first love, those hours of delight which they had participated together when the one derived all enjoyment from the other, and so rapturous, so enchanting, so full of life did she recall to his imagination that blissful season that he even doubted whether he had experienced with her so much felicity, or had been so truly happy. And, while she thus vividly portrayed their hours of past delight, she delineated in still more glowing, more enchanting colors, those hours of approaching bliss which now awaited them, richer in enjoyment than any preceding ones. In this manner did she charm her attentive auditor with enrapturing hopes for the future, and lull him into dreams of more than mortal ecstasy, so that while he listened to her siren strain, he entirely forgot how little blissful was the latter period of their union, when he had often sighed at her imperiousness, and at her harshness both to himself and all his household. Yet even had he recalled this to mind, would it have disturbed him in his present delirious trance, had she not now left behind in the grave all the frailty of mortality? Was not her whole being refined and purified by that long sleep in which neither fashion nor sin had approached her even in dreams, how different now was the subject of her discourse. Only when speaking of her affection for him did she betray anything of earthly feeling. At other times she uniformly dwelt upon themes relating to the invisible and future world, when in discounting and declaring the mysteries of eternity a stream of prophetic eloquence would burst from her lips. In this manner had twice seven days elapsed, and for the first time Walter beheld the being now dearer to him than ever in the full light of day. Every trace of the grave had disappeared from her countenance. A rosy tinge like the ruddy streaks of dawn again beamed on her pallid cheek. The faint, mouldering taint of the grave was changed into delightful violet scent. The only sign of earth that never disappeared. He no longer felt either apprehension or awe as he gazed upon her in that sunny light day. It was not until now that he seemed to have recovered her completely, and, glowing with all his form of passion towards her, he would have pressed her to his bosom, but she gently repulsed him, saying, Not yet. Spare your caresses until the moon has again filled her horn. Despite of his impatience Walter was obliged to await the lapse of another period of seven days, but, on the night when the moon was arrived at the fall, he hastened to see his daughter, whom he found more lovely than she had ever appeared before. Fearing no obstacles to his transports, he embraced with all the fervour of a deeply enamoured and successful lover. Runhilde, however, still refused to yield to his passion. What! exclaimed she. Is it fitting that I who have been purified by death from the frailty of mortality should become thy concubine, while a mere daughter of the earth bears the title so it must be within the walls of thy palace, within that chamber where I once reigned as queen that thou obtainest the end of thy wishes and of mine also, added she, imprinting a glowing kiss on the lips, and immediately disappeared. Heated with passion and determined to sacrifice everything to the accomplishment of his desires, Walter hastily quitted the apartment and shortly after the castle itself. He travelled over mountain and across heath, with the rapidity of a storm, so that the turf was flung up by his horse's hoofs. Nor once stopped until he arrived home. Here, however, neither the affectionate caresses of Runhilde, or those of his children could touch his heart, or induce him to restrain his furious desires. Alas! is the impetuous torrent to be checked in its devastating course by the beautyous flowers over which it rushes, when they exclaim, destroyer, commiserate our helpless innocence and beauty, nor lay us waste. The stream sweeps over the moon regarding and in a single moment annihilates the pride of a whole summer. Shortly afterwards did Walter begin to hint to Runhilde that they were ill-suited to each other, that he was anxious to taste that wild, tumultuous life, so well according with the spirit of his sex, while she, on the contrary, was satisfied with the monotonous circle of household enjoyments. That he was eager for whatever promised novelty, while she felt most attached to what was familiarised to her by habit, and lastly that her cold disposition bordering upon indifference, but ill-suited with his ardent temperament, it was therefore more prudent that they should seek apart from each other that happiness which they could not find together. A sigh and a brief acquiescence in his wishes was all the reply that's Runhilde made, and on the following morning, upon his presenting her with a paper of separation, informing her that she was at liberty to return home to her father, she received it most submissively. Yet, ere she departed, she gave him the following warning. Too well do I conjecture to whom I am indebted for this or separation. Often have I seen the at Runhilde's grave, and beheld thee there even on that night when the face of the heavens were suddenly enveloped in a veil of clouds. As though rashly dared to tear aside the awful veil that separates the mortality that dreams, from that which streameth not. O then, woe to thee, thou wretched man, for thou has attached to thyself that which will prove thy destruction. She ceased. Nor did Walter attempt any reply, for the similar admonition uttered by the sorcerer flashed upon his mind, all obscured as it was by passion, just as the lightning glares momentarily through the gloom of night without dispersing the obscurity. Runhilde then departed in order to pronounce to her children a bitter farewell, for they, according to national custom, belonged to the father, and, having bathed him in her tears and consecrated them with the holy water of maternal love, she quitted her husband's residence and departed to the home of her father's. Thus was the kind and benevolence runhilde driven in exile from those halls where she had presided with grace, from halls which were now newly decorated to receive another mistress. The day at length arrived on which Walter, for the second time, conducted Runhilde home as a newly made bride, and he caused it to be reported among his domestics that his new consort lad gained his affections by her extraordinary likeness to Runhilde, their former mistress. How ineffably happy did he deem himself as he conducted his beloved once more into their chamber which had often witnessed their former joys, and which was now newly gilded and adorned in a most costly style. Among the other decorations were figures of angels scattering roses which served to support the purple draperies whose ample folds are shadowed the natural couch. With what impatience did he await the hour that was to put him in possession of those beauties for which he had already paid so high a price, but whose enjoyment was to cost him most dearly yet. Unfortunate Walter, reveling in bliss, thou beholdest not the abyss that yawns beneath intoxicated with the luscious perfume of the flower thou hast plucked, thou little deemest how deadly is the venom with which it is fought, although for a short season its potent fragrance bestows new energy on all thy feelings. Happy, however, as Walter was now, his household was far from being equally so. The strange resemblance between their new lady and the deceased Runhilde filled them with a secret dismay, an undefinable horror, for there was not a single difference of feature, of tone of voice, or of gesture. To add too to these mysterious circumstances her female attendants discovered a particular mark on her back, exactly like the one which Runhilde had. A report was soon now circulated that their lady was no other than Runhilde herself who had been recalled to life by the power of necromancy. How truly horrible was the idea of living under the same roof with one who had been an inhabitant and of being obliged to attend upon her and acknowledge her as mistress. There was also in Runhilde much to increase this aversion and favour their superstition. No ornaments of gold ever decked her person. All that others were wont aware of this metal she had formed of silver, no richly coloured and sparkling jewels glittered upon her. Pearls alone lent their pale lustre to adorn her bosom. Most carefully did she always avoid the cheerful light of the sun and was wont to spend the brightest days in the most retired and gloomy apartments. Only during the twilight of the commencing or declining day did she ever walk aboard, but her favourite hour was when the phantom light of the moon bestowed on all objects a shadowy appearance and a sombre hue.  Imperious as before her death she quickly imposed her iron yoke upon everyone around her while she seemed even far more terrible than ever, since a dread of some supernatural power attached to her appalled all who approached her. A malignant withering glance seemed to shoot from her eye on the unhappy object of her wrath, as if it would annihilate its victim. In short, those halls which in the time of Swanhilda were the residents of cheerfulness and mirth now resembled an extensive desert tomb. With fear imparted on their pale countenances the domestics glided to the apartments of the castle and in this abode of terror the crowing of the cock caused the living to tremble as if they were the spirits of the departed, for the sound always reminded them of their mysterious mistress. There was no one but who shuddered at meeting her in a lonely place in the dusk of evening or by the light of the moon a circumstance that was deemed to be ominous of some evil. So great was the apprehension of her female attendance they pined in continual disquietude and by degrees all quitted her. In the course of time even others of the domestics fled, for an insupportable horror had seized them. The art of the sorcerer had indeed bestowed upon Van Hilda an artificial life and due nourishment had continued to support the restored body. Yet this body was not able of itself to keep up the genial glow of vitality and to nourish the flame when springs all the affections whether of love or hate, for death had forever destroyed and withered it. All that Van Hilda now possessed was a chilled existence, colder than that of the snake. It was nevertheless necessary that she should love and return with equal ardour the warm caresses of her spell-enthroiled husband to whose passion alone she was indebted for her renewed existence. It was necessary that a magic draught should animate the dull current in her veins to awaken her to the glow of life and the flame of love. A potion of abomination while not even to be named without a curse human blood imbibed whilst yet warm from the veins of youth. This was the hellish drink for which she thirsted, possessing no sympathy with the pure feelings of humanity, deriving no enjoyment from all that interests in life and occupies its varied hours. Her existence was a mere blank unless when in the arms of her paramour husband. And therefore was it that she craved incessantly after the horrible draught.   Nor were youths of either sex safe from her horrid attack, having first breathed upon her unhappy victim, who never failed immediately to sink into her length and sleep, she would then in a similar manner drain his veins of the vital juice. Thus children, youths and maidens quickly faded away as flowers gnawned by the cackling worm. The fullness of their limbs disappeared. A sallow lily succeeded to the rosy freshness of their cheeks. The liquid lustre of the eye was deadened even as the sparkling stream when arrested by the touch of frost and their looks became thin and grey as if already ravaged by the storm of life. Parents beheld with horror this desolating pestilence devouring their offspring nor could simple or charm potion or amulet avail ought against it. The grave swallowed up one after the other. Or did the miserable victim survive, he became cadaverous and wrinkled even in the very mourn of existence. Parents observed with horror this devastating pestilence snatch away their offspring, a pestilence which nor herb however potent, nor charm, nor holy taper, nor exorcism could avert. They either beheld their children sink one after the other into the grave or their useful forms withered by the unholy vampire embrace of Brunhilde, assume the decrepitude of sudden age. At length strange surmises and reports began to prevail. It was whispered that Brunhilde herself was the cause of all these horrors, although no one could pretend to tell in what manner she destroyed her victims since no marks of violence were discernible. Yet when young children confessed that she had frequently lulled them asleep in her arms and elder ones said that her sudden slumber of them whenever she began to converse with them, suspicion became converted into certainty, and those whose offspring had hitherto escaped unharmed quitted their hearths and home, all their little possessions, the dwellings of their fathers and the inheritance of their children in order to rescue from so horrible a fate those who were dearer to their simple affections than ought else the world could give. Thus daily did the castle assume a more desolate appearance. Daily did its environs become more deserted. None but a few aged, decrepid old women and grey-headed menials were to be seen remaining of the once numerous retinue. Such will in the latter days of the earth be the last generation of mortals when child-bearing shall have seized, when youth shall no more be seen, nor any arise to replace those who shall await their fate in silence. Walter alone noticed not, or he did not, the desolation around him. He apprehended not the death, lapped as he was in a glowing Elysium of love. Far more happily than formerly did he now seemen the possession of Brunhilda. All those caprices and frowns which had been want to overcloud their former union had now entirely disappeared. She even seemed to dot on him with a warmth of passion that she had never exhibited even during the happy season of bridal love, for the flame of that youthful blood of which she drained the veins of others rioted in her own. At night, as soon as he closed his eyes, she would breathe on him till he sank into delicious dreams, from which he awoke only to experience more rapturous enjoyments. By day she would continually discourse with him on the bliss experienced by happy spirits beyond the grave, assuring him that, as his affection had recalled her from the tomb, they were now irrevocably united. Thus, fascinated by a continual spell, it was not possible that he should perceive what was taking place around him. Brunhilde, however, foresaw with savage grief that the source of her youthful ardour was daily decreasing, for in a short time there remained nothing gifted with youth, save Walter and his children, and these latter she resolved should be her next victims. On her first return to the castle she had felt an aversion towards the offspring of another, and therefore abandoned them entirely by Swanhilde. Now, however, she began to pay considerable attention to them and caused them to be frequently admitted into her presence. The aged nurses were filled with dread at perceiving these marks of regard from her towards their young charges, yet dared they not to oppose the will of their terrible and imperious mistress. Soon did Brunhilde gain the affection of the children who were too unsuspecting of Gael to apprehend any danger from her. On the contrary, her caresses won them completely to her. Instead of ever checking their mirthful gambles, she would rather instruct them in new sports. Often, too, did she recite to them tales of such strange and wild interest as to exceed all the stories of their nurses. Were they weary either with play or with listening to her narratives, she would take them on her knees and lull them to slumber. Then did visions of the most surpassing end their dreams. They would fancy themselves in some garden where flowers of every hue rose in rows one above the other, from the humble violet to the tall sunflower, forming a party-coloured broidery of every hue, sloping upwards towards the golden clouds where little angels, whose wings sparked with azure and gold, descended to bring them delicious cakes or splendid jewels, or sung to them soothing melodious hymns. So delightful did these dreams in short time come to the children that they longed for nothing so eagerly as to slumber on Brunhilde's lap. For never did they else enjoy such visions of heavenly forms. They were the most anxious for that which was to prove their destruction. Yet do we not all aspire after that which conducts us to the grave, after the enjoyment of life? These innocence stretched out their arms to approaching death because it assumed the mask of pleasure. For, which they were lapped in ecstatic slumbers, Brunhilde sucked a lifestream from their bosoms. On waking indeed they felt themselves faint and exhausted. Yet did no pain nor any mark betray the cause. Shortly, however, did their strength entirely fail, even as the summer brook is gradually dried up. Their sports became less and less noisy. Their loud, frolicsome laughter was converted into a faint smile. The full tones of their voices died away into a mere whisper. Their attendance were filled with horror and despair. Too well did they conjecture the horrible truth. Yet dared not to impart their suspicions to Walter who was so devotedly attached to his horrible partner. Death had already smoked his prey. The children were but the mere shadows of their former selves. And even this shadow quickly disappeared. The anguished father deeply bemoaned their loss for notwithstanding his apparent regret. He was strongly attached to them. Nor until he had experienced their loss was he aware that his love was so great. His affliction could not fail to excite the displeasure of Brunhilde. Why does though lament so fondly, said she, for these little ones? What satisfaction could such unformed beings yield to thee, unless they were still attached to their mother? Thy heart is then still hers. Or dost thou now regret her and them, because thou art satiated with my fondness and weary of my endearments? Had these young ones grown up, would they not have attached thee, thy spirit and thy affections more closely to this earth of clay, to this dust, and have alienated thee from that sphere to which I, who have already passed the grave, endeavour to raise thee? Say, is thy spirit so heavy or thy love so weak, or thy faith so hollow, that the hope of being mine forever shall touch thee? Thus did Brunhilde express her indignation at her consort's grief, and forbade him her presence. The fear of offending her beyond forgiveness, and his anxiety to appease her soon dried up his tears, and he again abandoned himself to his fatal passion, until approaching destruction at length awakened him from his delusion. Neither maiden nor youth was any longer to be seen, either within the dreary walls of the castle remaining territory. All had disappeared, for those whom the grave had not swallowed up had fled from the region of death. Who therefore now remains to quench the horrible first of the female vampire save Walter himself, and his death she dared to contemplate unmoved, for that divine sentiment that unites two beings in one joy and one sorrow was unknown to her bosom. Was he in his tomb, so was she free to search out other victims and glut herself until she herself should at the last day be consumed with the earth itself. Such is the fatal law to which the dead are subject when awoke by the arts of necromancy from the sleep of the grave. She now began to fix her blood-sirsty lips on Walter's breast. When cast into a profound sleep by the odor of her violet breath he reclined beside her quite unconscious of his impending fate. Yet soon did his vital powers begin to decay, and many a gray hair peeped through his raven locks. With his strength his passion also declined, and he now frequently left her in order to pass the whole day in the sports of the chase hoping thereby to regain his wanted vigor. As he was reposing one day in a wood beneath the shade of an oak he perceived on the summit of a tree a bird of strange appearance and quite unknown to him, but before he could take aim at it with his bow it flew away into the clouds, at the same time letting fall a rose-colored root which dropped at Walter's feet. He immediately took it up, and although he was well acquainted with almost every plant he could not remember to have seen any at all resembling this. Its delightfully odiferous scent induced him to try its flavour, but ten times more bitter than wormwood it was, even as garl in his mouth. Upon which, impatient of the disappointment he flung it away with violence. Had he, however, been aware of its miraculous quality and that it acted as a counter-charm against the opiate perfume of Brunhilde's breath, he would have blessed it in spite of its bitterness. Thus do mortals often blindly cast away in displeasure the unsavory remedy that would otherwise work to their wheel. When Walter returned home in the evening and laid him down to oppose as usual by Brunhilde's side, the magic power of her breath produced no effect upon him, and for the first time during many months did he close his eyes in a natural slumber. Yet hardly had he fallen asleep ere a pungent, smarting pain disturbed him from his dreams, and opening his eyes he discerned by the gloomy rays of a lamp that glimmered in the apartment what for some moments transfixed him quite aghast, for it was Brunhilde drawing with her lips the warm blood from his bosom.  Monster exclaimed he, springing from the couch, is it thus that you love me? I, even as the dead love, replied she with a malignant coldness. Creature of blood continued Walter. The delusion which has so long blinded me is at an end. Thou are the fiend who has destroyed my children, who has murdered all of my vassals. Raising herself upwards and at the same time casting on him a glance that froze him to the spot with dread, she replied. It is not I who have murdered them. I was obliged to pamper myself with warm youthful blood in order that I might satisfy thy furious desires. Thou, at the murderer! These dreadful words summoned before Walter's terrified conscience, the threatening shades of all those who had thus perished while despair choked his voice. Why, continued she, in a tone that increases horror, why does thou make mouths of me like a puppet? Thou who had the courage to love the dead, to take into thy bed one who had been sleeping in the grave, the bed-fellow of the worm, who has clasped in thy lustful arms the corruption of the tomb. Dost thou, as thou art, now raise this hideous cry for the sacrifice of a few lives? They are but the leaves swept from their branches by a storm.  So saying, she extended her arms towards him, but this motion served only to increase his terror and exclaiming, a cursed being. He rushed out of the apartment. All the horrors of a guilty upgrading conscience became his companions, now that he was awakened from the delirium of his own holy pleasures. Frequently did he curse his own obstinate blindness for having given no heed to the hints and admonitions of his children's nurses, but treating them as wild calamities. But his sorrow was now too late. For, although repentance may gain pardon for the sinner, it cannot alter the immutable decrees of fate. It cannot recall the murdered from the tomb. No sooner did the first break of dawn appear than he set out for his lonely castle in the mountains, determined no longer to abide under the same roof with so terrific a being. Yet veying was his flight, for on waking the following morning he perceived himself in Brunhilder's arms and quite entangled in her long raven tresses, which seemed to involve him and bind him to the corners of his fate. The powerful fascination of her breath held him still more captivated, so that forgetting all that had passed he returned her caresses, until awakening as if from a dream he recoiled in unmixed horror from her embrace. During the day he wandered through the solitary walls of the mountains as a culprit seeking an asylum from his pursuers, and at night retired to the shelter of a cave, fearing less to couch himself in every place than to expose himself to the horror of a gang meeting Brunhilder. But alas! it was in vain that he endeavoured to flee her. Again when he awoke he found her the partner of his miserable bed. Nay! had he sought the centre of the earth as his hiding place had he even embedded himself beneath rocks or formed his chamber in the recesses of the ocean still had he found her his constant companion. For, by calling her again into existence, he had rendered himself inseparably hers so fatal were the links that united them. Struggling with the madness that was beginning to seize him and brooding incessantly on the ghastly visions that presented themselves to his horror-stricken mind he lay motionless in the gloomiest recesses of the woods even from the rise of sun till the shades of Eve. But no sooner was the light of day extinguished in the west and the woods bury in impenetrable darkness than the apprehension of resigning himself to sleep drove him forth among the mountains. The storm played wildly with the fantastic clouds and with the rattling leaves as they were caught up into the air as if some dread spirit were sporting with these images of transitoriness and decay. It roared among the summits of the oaks as if uttering a voice of fury while its hollow sound rebounding among the distant hills seemed as the moans of a departing sinner or as the faint cry of some wretch expiring under the murderous hand. The owl, too, uttered its ghastly cry as if foreboding the wreck of nature. Walter's hair flew disorderly in the wind like black snakes breathing around his temples and shoulders while each sense was awake to catch fresh horror. In the clouds he seemed to behold the forms of the murdered in the howling wind to hear their laments and groans in the chilling blast itself he felt the dire kiss of Brunhilda in the cry of the screeching bird he heard her voice in the mouldering leaves he centred the charnel bed out of which he had awakened her. Murder of their own offspring exclaimed he in a voice-making night and the conflict of the elements still more hideous. Paramore of a bloodthirsty vampire reveler with the corruption of the tomb whilst in his despair he rent the wild locks from his head. Just then the full moon darted from beneath the bursting clouds and the sight recalled to his resemblance the advice of the sorcerer when he trembled at the first apparition of Brunhilda rising from her sleep of death namely to seek him at the season of the full moon in the mountains where three roads met. Scarcely had this beam of hope broke in on his bewildered mind then he flew to the appointed spot. On his arrival Walter found the old man seated there upon a stone as calm as though it had been a bright sunny day and completely regardless of the uproar around.  Wherefore a mysterious warning why did thou not rather disclose to me at once all the horrors that awaited my sacrilegious proponation of the grave? And wherefore a mysterious warning of advice, wake not the dead work thou able to listen to another voice than that of thy impetuous passions did not thy eager impatience shut my mouth at the very moment I would have cautioned thee? True, true thy reproof is just but what does it avail now I need the promptest aid Well, replied the old man there remains even yet a means of rescuing thyself but it is fraught with horror and demands all thy resolution utter it then, utter it for what can be more appalling more hideous than the misery I now endure No then, continued the sorcerer that only on the night of the new moon does she sleep the sleep of mortals and then all the supernatural power which she inherits from the grave totally fails her tis then that thou must murder her How! murder her! echoed water I return the old man calmly pierce her bosom with a sharpened dagger which I will furnish thee with at the same time renounce her memory for ever swearing never to think of her intentionally and that if thou dost involuntarily thou wilt repeat the curse most horrible yet what can be more horrible than she herself is I'll do it keep then this resolution until the new moon what must I wait until then, quite water alas, ere then either her savage thirst for blood will have forced me into the night of the tomb or horror will have driven me into the night of madness Nay, replied the sorcerer that I can prevent and so saying he conducted him to a cavern further among the mountains abide here twice seven days said he so long can I protect thee against her deadly caresses here will thou find all due provision for thy wants but take heed that nothing tempt thee to quit this place farewell when the moon renews itself again then do I repair hither again so saying the sorcerer drew a magic circle around the cave and then immediately disappeared twice seven days did Walter continue in this solitude where his companions were his own terrifying thoughts and his bitter repentance the present was all desolation and dread the future presented the image of a horrible deed which he must perforce commit while the past was imprisoned by the memory of his guilt did he think on his former happy union with Thrunhilde her horrible image presented itself to his imagination with her lips defiled with dropping blood or did he call to mind the peaceful days he had possessed with Thrunhilde he beheld her sorrowful spirit with the shadows of her murdered children such were the horrors that attended him by day those of night were still more dreadful for then he beheld Thrunhilde herself who, wandering round the magic circle which he could not pass called upon his name till the cavern re-echoed the horrible sound Walter my beloved cried she wherefore dost thou avoid me art thou not mine for ever mine mine here and mine hereafter and dost thou seek to murder me ah commit not a deed which holds us both to perdition thyself as well as me in this manner did the horrible visitant torment him each night and even when she departed robbed him of all repose the night of the new moon at length arrived dark as the deed it was doomed to bring forth the sorcerer entered the cavern come said he to Walter let us depart hence the hour is now arrived and he forthwith conducted him in silence from the cave to a coal-black steed the sight of which recalled to Walter's resemblance the fatal night he then related to the old man Thrunhilde's nocturnal visits and anxiously inquired whether her apprehensions of internal perdition would be fulfilled or not mortal eye exclaimed the sorcerer may not pierce the dark secrets of another world and illustrate the deeper base that separates earth from heaven Walter hesitated to mount the steed be resolute exclaimed his companion but this once it is granted to thee to make the trial and should thou fail now not can rescue thee from her power what can be more horrible than she herself I am determined and he leapt on the horse the sorcerer mounting also behind him the rapidity equal to that of the storm that sweeps across the plain they in brief space arrived at Walter's castle all the doors flew open at the bidding of his companion and they speedily reached Thrunhilde's chamber and stood beside her couch reclining in a tranquil slumber she reposed in all her native loveliness every trace of horror had disappeared from her countenance she looked so pure meek and innocent that all the sweet hours of their endearments were so ordinary like interceding angels pleading in her behalf his unnerved hand could not take the dagger which the sorcerer presented to him the blow must be struck even now said the latter should thou delay but an hour she will lie at daybreak on thy bosom sucking the warm life drops from thy heart horrible most horrible fault of the trembling Walter and turning away his face to the bosom exclaiming I curse thee for ever and the cold blood gushed upon his hand opening her eyes once more she cast a look of ghastly horror on her husband and in a hollow dying accent said thou too hot dooms too perdition they know thy hand upon her corpse said the sorcerer and swear the oath Walter did as commanded saying never will I think of her with love never recall her to mind intentionally and should her image recur to my mind involuntarily so will I exclaim it be thou accursed thou has now done everything return the sorcerer restore her therefore to the earth from which thou did so foolishly recall her and be sure to recollect thy oath for shouldst thou forget it but once she would return and thou wouldst be inevitably lost adieu we see each other no more having uttered these words he quitted the apartment and Walter also fled from the abode of horror having first given direction that the corpse should be speedily interred again did the terrific Brunhilde repose within her grave but her image continually haunted Walter's imagination so that his existence was one continued martyrdom in which he continually struggled to dismiss from his recollection the hideous phantoms of the past yet the stronger his effort to banish them so much the more frequently and the more vividly did they return as the night wanderer who is enticed by a fire-wisp into quagmire or bog sinks the deeper into his damp grave the more he struggles to escape his imagination seemed incapable of admitting any other image than that of Brunhilde now he fancied he beheld her expiring the blood streaming from her beautiful bosom he saw the lovely bride of his youth who reproached him with having disturbed the slumbers of the tomb and to both he was compelled to utter the dreadful words I curse thee for ever the terrible implication was constantly passing his lips yet was he in incessant terror lest he should forget it or dream of her without being able to repeat it and then, on awakening, find himself in her arms else would he recall her expiring words and appalled at their terrific import imagine that the doom of his perdition was irrecoverably past whence should he fly from himself or how erase from his brain these images and forms of horror in the din of combat in the tumult of war and its incessant pour of victory to defeat from the choir of anguish to the exultation of victory in these he hoped to find at least the relief of destruction but here too he was disappointed the giant fang of apprehension now seized him who had never before known fear each drop of blood that sprayed upon him seemed the cold blood that had gushed from runehilder's wound each dying wretch that fell beside him looked like her when expiring she exclaimed thou too art doomed to perdition so that the aspect of death seemed more full of dread to him than ought beside and this unconquerable terror compelled him to abandon the battlefield at length, after many awery and frugeless wondering he returned to his castle here all was deserted and silent as if the sword or a still more deadly pestilence had laid everything waste for the few inhabitants that still remained and even those servants who had once shown themselves the most attached now fled from him as though he had been branded with the mark of cane with horror he perceived that by uniting himself as he had done with the dead he had cut himself off from the living who refused to hold any intercourse with him often when he stood on the battlements of his castle and looked down upon desolate fields he compared their present solitude with the lively activity they would want to exhibit under the strict but benevolent discipline of swanhilder he now felt that she alone could reconcile him to life but does he hope that one whom he so deeply agreed could pardon him and receive him again impatience at length got the better of fear he sought swanhilder and with the deepest contrition acknowledged his complicated guilt embracing her knees as he beseeched her to pardon him and to return to his desolate castle in order that it might again become the abode of contentment and peace the pale form which she beheld at her feet the shadow of the lately blooming youth touched swanhilder the folly said she gently though it has caused me much sorrow has never excited my resentment or my anger but say where are my children to this dreadful interrogation the agonized father could for a while frame no reply at length he was obliged to confess the dreadful truth then we are sundered for ever returned swanhilder nor could all his tears or supplications prevail upon her to revoke the sentence she had given stripped of his last earthly hope bereft of his last consolation and thereby rendered as poor as mortal can possibly be on this side of the grave Walter returned homewards when, as he was riding through the forest in the neighbourhood of his castle absorbed in his gloomy meditations the sudden sound of a horn roused him from his reverie shortly after he saw a peer a female figure clad in black and mounted on a steed of the same colour her attire was like that of a huntress but instead of a falcon she bore a raven in her hand and she was attended by a gay troupe of cavaliers and dames the first salutations being passed he found that she was proceeding the same road as himself and when she found that Walter's castle was close at hand she requested that he would lodge her for the night the evening being far advanced most willingly did he comply with this request since the appearance of the beautiful stranger had struck him greatly so wonderfully did she resemble swanhilder except that her locks were brown and her eye dark and full of fire with a sumptuous banquet did he entertain his guests whose mirth and songs enlivened the lately silent halls three days did this revelry continue and so exhilarating did it prove to Walter that he seemed to have forgotten his sorrows and his fears nor could he prevail upon himself to dismiss his visitors dreading less on their departure the castle would seem a hundred times more desolate than beforehand his grief be proportionally increased at his earnest request the stranger consented to stay seven and again another seven days without being requested she took upon herself the superintendent's of the household which she regulated as discreetly and cheerfully as swanhilder had been wont to do so that the castle which had so lately been the abode of melancholy and horror became the residence of pleasure and festivity and Walter's grief disappeared altogether in the midst of so much gaiety daily did his attachment to the fair unknown increase he even made his confidant and one evening as they were walking together apart from any of her train he related to her his melancholy and frightful history my dear friend returned she as soon as he had finished his tale it ill-be-seems a man of thy discretion to afflict thyself on account of all this thou hast awakened the dead from the sleep of the grave and afterwards found what might have been anticipated that the dead possess no sympathy with life what then thou wilt not commit this error a second time thou hast however murdered the being whom thou hast thus recalled again to existence but it was only an appearance for thou couldst not deprive that of life which properly had none thou hast too lost a wife and two children but at thy years such a loss is most easily repaired there are beauties who will gladly share thy couch and make thee again a father but thou dreadest the reckoning of hereafter go open the graves and ask the sleepers there whether that hereafter disturbs them in such manner would she frequently exhort and cheer him so that in a short time his melancholy entirely disappeared he now ventured to declare to the unknown the passion with which she had inspired him nor did she refuse him her hand within seven days afterwards the nuptials were celebrated and the very foundations of the castle seemed to rock from the wild tomatoes uproar of unrestrained riot the wine streamed in abundance the goblets circled incessantly in temperance reached its utmost bounds while shouts of laughter almost resembling madness burst from the numerous train belonging to the unknown at length Walter, heated with wine and love conducted his bride into the nuptial chamber but oh horror scarcely had he clasped her in his arms ere she transformed herself into a monstrous serpent which entwining him in its hard folds crushed him to death flames crackled on every side of the apartment in a few minutes after the whole castle was enveloped in a blaze that consumed it entirely while as the walls fell in with a tremendous crash a voice exclaimed aloud wake not the dead that was Wake not the Dead by Johann Ludwig Teek read by Morgan Scorpion