The werewolf. My father was not born or originally a resident in the Hartz
Mountains. He was the serf of an Hungarian nobleman of great possessions in Transylvania.
But although a serf, he was not by any means a poor or
illiterate man. In fact, he was rich, and his intelligence and respectability
were such that he had been raised by his lord to the stewardship. But
whoever may happen to be born a serf, a serf must he remain,
even though he become a wealthy man. Such was the condition of my father.
My father had been married for about five years, and by his marriage
had three children, my eldest brother, Caesar, myself Hermann, and a
sister named Marcella. Latin is still the language spoken in that country, and
that will account for our high sounding names. My mother was a very beautiful
woman, unfortunately more beautiful than virtuous. She was seen and admired by the
lord of the soil. My father was sent away upon some mission, and
during his absence, my mother, flattered by the attentions and won by the
assiduities of this nobleman, yielded to his wishes. It so happened that my
father returned very unexpectedly and discovered the intrigue. The evidence of my mother's shame
was positive. He surprised her in the company of her seducer. Carried away
by the impetuosity of his feelings, he watched the opportunity of a meeting taking
place between them, and murdered both his wife and her seducer. Conscious that
as a serf, not even the provocation which he had received would be allowed
as a justification of his conduct, he hastily collected together what money he could
lay his hands upon, and, as we were then in the depth of
winter, he put his horses to the sleigh, and, taking his children
with him, he set off in the middle of the night, and was
far away before the tragical circumstance had transpired. Aware that he would be pursued,
and that he had no chance of escape if he remained in any portion
of his native country in which the authorities could lay hold of him, he
continued his flight without intermission until he had buried himself in the intricacies and seclusion
of the Hartz Mountains. Of course, all that I have now told you
I learned afterwards. My oldest recollections are knit to a rude yet comfortable cottage
in which I lived with my father, brother and sister. It was on
the confines of one of those vast forests which cover the northern part of Germany.
Around it were a few acres of ground, which, during the summer
months my father cultivated, and which, though they yielded a doubtful harvest,
were sufficient for our support. In the winter we remained much indoors, for
as my father followed the chase, we were left alone, and the wolves
during the season incessantly prowled about. Other had purchased the cottage and land about
it of one of the rude foresters who gained their livelihood partly by hunting and
partly by burning charcoal for the purpose of smelting the ore from the neighboring mines.
It was distant, about two miles from any other habitation. I can
call to mind the whole landscape now, the tall pines which rose up on
the mountain above us, and the wide expanse of forest beneath, on the
topmost boughs and heads of whose trees we looked down from our cottage, as
a mountain below us rapidly descended into the distant valley. In summer time,
the prospect was beautiful, but during the severe winter, a more desolate scene
could not well be imagined. I said that in the winter my father occupied
himself with a chase every day he left us, and often would he lock
the door, that we might not leave the cottage. He had no one
to assist him or to take care of us. Indeed, it was not
easy to fire and a female servant who would live in such a solitude.
But could he have found one, my father would not have received her,
for he had imbibed a horror of the sex. As a difference of his
conduct toward us, his two boys and my poor little sister Marcella evidently proved.
You may suppose we were sadly neglected. Indeed we suffered much, for
my father, fearful that we might come to some harm, would not allow
us fuel when he left the cottage, and we were obliged therefore to creep
under the heaps of bear's skin, and there to keep ourselves as warm as
we could until he returned in the evening, when a blazing fire. Was
our delight that my father chose this restless sort of life may appear strange,
but the fact was that he could not remain quiet, whether from remorse for
having committed murder, or from the misery consequent on his change of situation,
or from both combined. He was never happy unless he was in a state
of activity. Children, however, when left much to themselves, acquire a
thoughtfulness not common to their age. So it was with us, and during
the short cold days of winter, we would sit silent, longing for the
happy hours when the snow would melt, and the leaves burst out, and
the birds begin their songs, and when we should again be set at liberty.
Such was our peculiar and savage sort of life until my brother Caesar was
nine, myself seven, and my sister five years old, when the circumstances
occurred on which is base the extraordinary narrative which I am about to relate.
One evening, my father returned home rather later than usual. He had been
unsuccessful, and as the weather was very severe and many feet of snow were
upon the ground, he was not only very cold, but in a very
bad humor. He had brought in wood, and we were all three of
us gladly assisting each other in blowing on the embers to create the blaze.
When he caught poor little Marcella by the arm and threw her side. The
child fell, struck her mouth and bled very much. My brother ran to
raise her up. Accustomed to ill usage and afraid of my father, she
did not dare to cry, but looked up in his face very piteously.
My father drew his stool near to the hearth, muttered something and abuse of
women, and busied himself with the fire, which both my brother and I
had deserted when our sister was so unkindly treated. A cheerful blaze was soon
the result of his exertions, but we did not, as usual, crowd
round it. Marcella, still bleeding, retired to a corner, and my
brother and I took our seats beside her, while my father hung over the
fire gloomily and alone. Such had been our position for about half an hour
when the howl of a wolf close under the window of the cottage fell on
our ears. My father started up and seized his gun. The howl was
repeated, He examined the priming, and then hastily left the cottage, shutting
the door after him. We all waited anxiously listening, for we thought that
if he succeeded in shooting the wolf, he would return in a better humor.
And although he was harsh to all of us, and particularly so to
our little sister, still we loved our father and loved to see him cheerful
and happy. For what else had we to look up to? And I
may here observe that perhaps there never were three children who were fonder of each
other. We did not, like other children, fight and dispute together,
And if by chance, any disagreement did arise between my elder brother and me,
little Marcella would run to us, and kissing us both seal through her
entreaties the peace between us. Marcella was a lovely, amiable child. I
can recall her beautiful features even now. Alas poor little Marcella, we waited
for some time, but the report of the gun did not reach us,
and my other then said, our father has followed the wolf and will not
be back for some time. Marcella, let us wash the blood from your
mouth, and then we will leave this corner and go to the fire and
warm ourselves. We did so, and remained there until near midnight, every
minute wondering as it grew later. Why our father did not return. We
had no idea that he was in any danger, but we thought that he
must have chased the wolf for a very long time. I will look out
and see if father is coming, said my brother Caesar, going to the
door. Take care, said Marcella. The wolves must be about now,
and we cannot kill them. Brother. My brother opened the door very cautiously,
and but a few inches he peeped out. I see nothing, said
he. After a time, and once more he joined us at the fire.
We have had no supper, said I, for my father usually cooked
the meat as soon as he came home, and during his absence we had
nothing but the fragments of the preceding day. And if our father comes home
after his hunt, Caesar said Marcella, he will be pleased to have some
supper. Let us cook it for him and for ourselves. Caesar climbed upon
the stool and reached down some meat. I forget now whether it was venison
or bear's meat, but we cut off the usual quantity and proceeded to dress
it as we used to do under our father's superintendence. We were all busied
putting it into the platters before the fire to wait his coming. When we
heard the sound of a horn, we listened. There was a sound outside,
and a minute afterwards my father entered, ushering in a young female and
a large dark man in a hunter's dress. Perhaps I had better now relate
what was only known to me many years afterwards. When my father had left
the cottage, he perceived a large white wolf about thirty yards from him.
As soon as the animal saw my father, it retreated slowly, growling and
snot arling. My father followed. The animal did not run, but always
kept at some distance, and my father did not like to fire until he
was pretty certain that his ball would take effect. Thus they went on for
some time, the wolf now leaving my father far behind, and then stopping
and snarling defiance at him, and then again on his approach, setting off
at speed, anxious to shoot the animal, for the white wolf is very
rare. My father continued the pursuit for several hours, during which he continually
ascended the mountain. You must know that there are peculiar spots on those mountains
which are supposed, and as my story will prove, truly supposed to be
inhabited by the evil influences. They are well known to the huntsmen, who
invariably avoid them. Now one of these spots, an open space in the
pine forest above us, had been pointed out to my father as dangerous on
that account. But whether he disbelieved these wild stories, or whether in his
eager pursuit of the chase he disregarded them, I know not certain. However,
it is that he was decoyed by the white wolf to this open space.
When the animal appeared to slacken her speed, my father approached, came
close up to her, raised his gun to his shoulder, and was about
to fire when the wolf suddenly disappeared. He thought that the snow on the
ground must have dazzled his sight, and he let down his gun to look
for the beast, But she was gone. How she could have escaped over
the clearance without his seeing her was beyond his comprehension. Mortified at the ill
success of his chase, he was about to retrace his steps when he heard
the distant sound of a horn. Astonishment at such a sound, at such
an hour, in such a wilderness made him forget for the moment his disappointment,
and he remained riveted to the spot in a minus in it. The
horn was blown a second time, and at no great distance. My father
stood still and listened. A third time it was blown. I forget the
term used to express it, but it was the signal which my father well
knew implied that the party was lost in the woods. In a few minutes
more, my father beheld a man on horseback with a female seated on the
crupper, enter the cleared space and ride up to him. At first,
my father called to mind the strange stories which he had heard of the supernatural
beings who were said to frequent these mountains, but the near approach of the
parties satisfied him that they were mortals like himself. As soon as they came
up to him, the man who guided the horse accosted him, Friend,
hunter, you are out late. The better fortune for us. We have
ridden far and are in fear of our lives, which are eagerly sought after.
These mountains have enabled us to elude our pursuers. But if we find
not shelter and refreshment, that will avail us little, as we must perish
from hunger and the inclemency of the night. My daughter, who rides behind
me, is now more dead than alive. Say, can you assist us
in our difficulty? My cottage is some few miles distant, replied my father,
But I have little to offer you besides the shelter from the weather.
To the little I have, you are welcome. May I ask whence you
come? Yes, friend, it is no secret now we have escaped from
Transylvania, where my daughter's honor and my life were equally in jeopardy. This
information was quite enough to raise an interest in my father's heart. He remembered
his own escape, He remembered the loss of his wife's honor and the tragedy
by which it was wound up. He immediately and warmly offered all the assistance
which he could afford them. There is no time to be lost, then,
good sir, observed the horseman. My daughter is chilled with the frost
and cannot hold out much longer against the severity of the weather. Follow me,
replied my father, leading the way towards his home. I was lured
away in pursuit of a large white wolf, observed my father. It came
to the very window of my hut, or I should not have been out
at this time of night. The creature passed by us just as we came
out of the wood, said the female in a silvery tone. I was
nearly discharging my peace at it, observed the hunter. But since it did
us such good service, I am glad that I allowed it to escape.
In about an hour and a half, during which my father walked at a
rapid pace, the party arrived at the cottage, and, as I said
before, came in. We are in good time, apparently observed the dark
hunter, catching the smell of the roasted meat as he walked to the fire
and surveyed my brother and sister and myself. You have young cooks here mine
here. I am glad that we shall not have to wait, replied my
father. Come, mistress, seat yourself by the fire. You require warmth
after your cold ride. And where can I put up my horse minehar observed
the huntsman. I will take care of him, replied my father, going
out of the cottage door. The female, must, however, be particularly
described. She was young and apparently twenty years of age. She was dressed
in a traveling dress deeply bordered with white fur, and wore a cap of
white ermine on her head. Her features were very beautiful, at least I
thought so, and so my father has since declared. Her hair was flaxen,
glossy and shining and bright as a mirror, and her mouth, although
somewhat large, when it was open, showed the most brilliant teeth I have
ever beheld. But there was something about her eyes, bright as they were,
which made us children afraid. They were so restless, so furtive.
I could not at that time tell why, but I felt as if there
was cruelty in her eye. And when she beckoned us to come to her,
we approached her with fear and trembling. Still, she was beautiful,
very beautiful. She spoke kindly to my brother and myself, patted our heads,
and caressed us that Marcella would not come near her. On the contrary,
she slunk away and hid herself in the bed, and would not wait
for the supper, which half an hour before she had been so anxious for.
My father, having put the horse into a close shed, soon returned,
and supper was placed upon the table. When it was over, my
father requested that the young lady would take possession of his bed, and he
would remain at the fire and sit up with her father. After some hesitation
on her part, this arrangement was agreed to, and I and my brother
crept into the other bed with Marcella, for we had as yet always slept
together. But we could not sleep. There was something so unusual, not
only in seeing strange people, but in having those people sleep at the cottage,
that we were bewildered. As for poor little Marcella, she was quiet,
but I perceived that she trembled during the whole night, and sometimes I
thought that she was checking a sob. My father had brought out some spirits,
which he rarely used, and he and the strange hunter remained drinking and
talking before the fire. Our ears were ready to catch the slightest whisper.
So much was our curiosity excited. You said you came from Transylvania, observed
my father. Even so mine hair replied the hunter. I was a serf
to the noble house of Blank. My master would insist upon my surrendering up
my fair girl to his wishes. It ended in my giving him a few
inches of my hunting knife. We are countrymen and brothers in misfortune, replied
my father, taking the huntsman's hand and pressing it warmly. Indeed, are
you then from that country? Yes, and I too have fled for my
life. But mine is a melancholy tale. Your name, inquired the Hunterkrantz,
what cruntz of blank? I have heard of your tale. You need
not renew your grief by repeating it. Now, welcome, most welcome,
mine heir, and I may say, my worthy kinsman, I am your
second cousin, Villefred of Barnsdorf, cried the Hunter, rising up and embracing
my father. They filled their horn mugs to the brim and drank to one
another after the German fashion. The conversation was then carried on in a low
tone. All that we could collect from it was that our new relative and
his daughter were to take up their abode in our cottage, at least for
the present. In about an hour, they both fell back in their chairs
and appeared to sleep. Marcella, dear, did you hear, said my
brother in a low tone. Yes, replied Marcella, in a whisper.
I heard all, Oh, brother, I cannot bear to look upon that
woman. I feel so frightened. My brother made no reply, and shortly
afterwards we were all three fast asleep. When we woke the next morning,
we found that the hunter's daughter had risen before us. I thought she looked
more beautiful than ever. She came up to little Marcella and caressed her.
The child burst into tears and sobbed as if her heart would break. But
not to detain you with too long a story. The huntsman and his daughter
were accommodated in the cottage. My father and he went out hunting daily,
leaving Christina with us. She performed all the household duties, was very kindly
to us children, and gradually the dislike even of little Marcella wore away.
But a great change took place in my father. He appeared to have conquered
his aversion to the sex, and was most attentive to Christina. Often,
after her father and we were in bed, would he set up with her,
conversing in a low tone by the fire. I ought to have mentioned
that my father and the huntsman Wilfrid, slept in another portion of the cottage,
and that the bed which he formerly occupied, and which was in the
same room as ours, had been given up to the use of Christina.
These visitors had been about three weeks at the cottage, when one night,
after we children had been sent to bed, a consultation was held. My
father had asked Christina in marriage, and had obtained both her own consent and
that of Vilford. After this, a conversation took place, which was as
nearly as I can recollect as follows. You may take my child Minheerkrantz and
my blessing with her, and I shall then leave you and seek some other
habitation. It matters little where Why not remain here, Vilford? No,
No, I am called elsewhere. Let that suffice and ask no more questions.
You have my child. I thank you for her, and will duly
value her. But there is one difficulty. I know what you would say.
There is no priest here in this wild country. True, neither is
there any law to bind. Still, must some ceremony pass between you to
satisfy a father? Will you consent to marry her after my fashion? If
so, I will marry you directly. I will rep replied my father.
Then take her by the hand, now mineheir, swear, I swear,
repeated my father, by all the spirits of the Hart's mountains. Nay,
why not by heaven? Interrupted my father, because it is not my humor,
rejoined Vilford. If I prefer that oath less binding perhaps than another.
Surely you will not thwart me? Well? Be it so? Then have
your humor? Will you make me swear by that in which I do not
believe? Yet many do so, who in outward appearance are Christians? Rejoined
Vilford say, will you be married? Or shall I take my daughter away
with me? Proceed, replied my father impatiently. I swear by all the
spirits of the Hart's Mountains, by all their power, for good or for
evil, that I take Christina for my wedded wife, that I will ever
protect her, cherish her, and love her, that my hand shall never
be raised against her to harm her. My father repeated the words after Wilford.
And if I fail in this my vow, may all the vengeance of
the spirits fall upon me and upon my children. May they perish by the
vulture, by the wolf or other beasts of the forest. May their flesh
be torn from their limbs and their bones blanche in the wilderness. All this
I swear, My father hesitated as he repeated the last words. Little Marcella
could not restrain herself, and as my father repeated the last sentence, she
burst into tears. This sudden interruption appeared to discompose the party, particularly my
father. He spoke harshly to the child, who controlled her sobs, burying
her face under the bedclothes. Such was the second marriage of my father.
Next morning, the hunter Wilfred, mounted his horse and rode away. My
father resumed his bed, which was in the same room as ours, and
things went on much as before the marriage, except that our new mother in
law did not show any kindness towards us. Indeed, during my father's absence,
she would often beat us, particularly little Marcella, and her eyes would
flash fire as she looked eagerly upon the fair and lovely child. One night,
my sister awoke me and my brother. What is the matter, said
Caesar. She has gone out, whispered Marcella. Gone out, Yes,
gone out at the door in her night clothes, replied the child. I
saw her get out of bed, look at my father to see if he
slept, and then she went out at the door. What could induce her
to leave her bed and all undressed to go out in such bitter wintry weather,
with snow deep on the ground, was to us incomprehensible. We lay
awake, and in about an hour we heard the growl of a wolf close
under the window. There's a wolf, said Caesar. She will be toned
to pieces. Oh no, cried Marcella. In a few minutes afterwards,
our mother in law appeared. She was in her night dress, as Marcella
had stated. She let down the latch of the door so as to make
no noise, went to a pail of water and washed her face and hands,
and then slipped into the bed where my father lay. We all three
trembled. We hardly knew why, but we resolved to watch the next night.
We did so, and not only on the ensuing night, but on
many others, and always at about the same hour would our mother in law
rise from her bed and leave the cottage. And after she was gone we
invariably heard the growl of a wolf under our window, and always saw her
on her return wash herself before she retired to bed. We observed also that
she seldom sat down to meals, and that when she did, she appeared
to eat with dislike, but when the meat was taken down to be prepared
for dinner, she would often furtively put a raw piece into her mouth.
My brother Caesar was a courageous boy. He did not liked to speak to
my father until he knew more. He resolved that he would follow her out
and ascertain what she did. Marcella and I endeavored to dissuade him from this
project, but he would not be controlled, and the very next night he
lay down in his clothes, and as soon as our mother in law had
left the cottage, he jumped up, took down my father's gun, and
followed her. You may imagine in what a state of suspense. Marcella and
I remained during his absence. After a few minutes we heard the report of
a gun. He did not awaken my father, and we lay trembling with
anxiety. In a minute afterwards, we saw our mother in law enter the
cottage. Her dress was bloody. I put my hand to Marcella's mouth to
prevent her crying out, although I was myself in great alarm our. Mother
in law approached my father's bed, looked to see if he was asleep,
and then went to the chimney and blew up the embers into a blaze.
Who is there, said my father, waking up? Lie still dearest,
replied my mother in law. It is only me. I have lighted the
fire to warm some water. I am not quite well. My father turned
round and was soon asleep. But we watched our mother in law. She
changed her linen and threw the garments she had worn into the fire, and
we then perceived that her right leg was bleeding profusely, as if from a
gun shot wound. She bandaged it up, and, then dressing herself,
remained before the fire until the break of day. Poor little Marcella. Her
heart beat quick as she pressed me to her side, So indeed did mine.
Where was our brother, Caesar? How did my mother in law receive
the wound? Unless from his gun? At last my father rose, and
then for the first time I spoke, saying, Father, where is my
brother Caesar? Your brother, explained he? Why where can he be?
Merciful? Heaven? I thought? As I lay restless last night, observed
our mother in law that I he heard somebody open the latch of the door,
and dear me, husband, what has become of your gun? My
father cast his eyes above the chimney and perceived that his gun was missing.
For a moment he looked perplexed. Then, seizing a broad axe, he
went out of the cottage without saying another word. He did not remain away
from us long. In a few minutes he returned, bearing in his arms
the mangled body of my poor brother. He laid it down and covered up
his face. My mother in law rose up and looked at the body,
while Marcella and I threw ourselves by its side, wailing and sobbing bitterly.
Go to bed again, children, said she sharply. Husband continued, she,
Your boy must have taken the gun down to shoot a wolf, and
the animal has been too powerful for him. Poor boy, he has paid
dearly for his rashness. My father made no reply. I wished to speak
to tell all, but Marcella, who perceived my intention, held me by
the arm and looked at me so so imploringly that I desisted. My father
therefore was left in his heir. But Marcella and I, although we could
not comprehend it, were conscious that our mother in law was in some way
connected with my brother's death. That day, my father went out and dug
a grave, and when he laid the body in the earth, he piled
up stones over it, so that the wolves should not be able to dig
it up. The shock of this catastrophe was to my poor father very severe,
for several days, he never went to the chase, although at times
he would utter bitter anathemas and vengeance against the wolves. But during this time
of mourning on his part, my mother in law's nocturnal wanderings continued with the
same regularity as before. At last, my father took down his gun to
repair to the force, but he soon returned and appeared much annoyed. Would
you believe it, Christina, that the wolves, perdition to the whole race,
have actually contrived to dig up the body of mine, my poor boy.
Now there's nothing left of him but his bones. Indeed, replied my
mother in law. Marcella looked at me, and I saw in her intelligent
eye all that she would have uttered. A wolf growl's under our window every
night? Father said, I ay, indeed, why did you not tell
me, boy? Wake me the next time you hear it? I saw
my mother in law turn away, her eyes flashed fire, and she gnashed
her teeth. My father went out again and covered up with a large pile
of stones the little remnants of my poor brother which the wolves had spared.
Such was the first act of the tragedy. The spring now came on the
snow disappeared, and we were permitted to leave the cottage. But never would
I quit for one moment my dear little sister, to whom, since the
death of my brother, I was more ardently attached than ever. Indeed,
I was afraid to leave her alone with my mother in law, who appeared
to have a particular pleasure in ill treating the child. My father was now
employed upon his little farm, and I was able to render him some assistance.
Marcella used to sit by us while we were at work, leaving my
mother in law alone in the cottage. I ought to observe that as the
spring advanced, so did my mother decrease her nocturnal rambles, and that we
never heard the growl of the wolf under the window, after I had spoken
of it to my father. One day, when my father and I were
in the field, Marcella, being with us, my mother in law came
out, saying that she was going into the force to collect some herbs my
father wanted, and that Marcella must go to the cottage and watch the dinner.
Marcella went, and my mother in law soon disappeared in the forest,
taking a direction quite contrary to that in which the cottage stood and leaving my
father and I as it were, between her and Marcella. About an hour
afterwards, we were startled by shrieks from the cottage, evidently the shrieks of
little Marcella. Marcella has burnt herself. Father said, I throwing down my
spade. My father threw down his, and we both hastened to the cottage.
Before we could gain the door, out darted a large white wolf,
which fled with the utmost celerity. My father had no weapon. He rushed
into the cottage and there saw poor little Marcella expiring. Her body was dreadfully
mangled, and the blood pouring from it had formed a large pool on the
cottage floor. My father's first intention had been to Caesar's gun and pursue,
but he was checked by this horde spectacle. He knelt down by his dying
child and burst into tears. Marcella could just look kindly on us for a
few seconds, and then her eyes were closed in death. My father and
I were still hanging over my poor sister's body when my mother in law came
in at the dreadful sight. She expressed much concern, but she did not
appear to recoil from the sight of blood, as most women do. Poor
child, said she it must have been that great white wolf which asked me
just now and frightened me. So she's quite dead. Krantz, I know
it, I know it, cried my father in agony. I thought my
father would never recover from the effects of this second tragedy. He mourned bitterly
over the body of his sweet child, and for several days would not consign
it to its grave, although frequently requested by my mother in law to do
so. At last he yielded and dug a grave for her, close by
that of my poor brother, and took every precaution that the wolves should not
violate her remains. I was now really miserable. As I lay alone in
the bed which I had formerly shared with my brother and sister. I could
not help thinking that my mother in law was implicated in both their deaths,
although I could not account for the manner, but I no longer felt afraid
of her. My little heart was full of hatred and revenge. The night
after my sister had been buried, as I lay awake, I perceived my
mother in law get up and go out of the cottage. I waited for
some time, then dressed myself and looked out through the door, which I
half opened. The moon shone bright, and I could see the spot where
my brother and my sister had been buried. And what was my horror when
I perceived my mother in law busily removing the stones from Marcella's grave. She
was in her white night dress, and the moon shone full upon her face.
She was digging with her hands and throwing away the stones behind her with
all the ferocity of a wild beast. It was some time before I could
collect my senses and decide what I should do. At last, I perceived
that she had arrived at the body and raised it up to the side of
the grave. I could bear it no longer. I ran to my father
and awoke him. Father. Father cried, I dress yourself and get your
gun. What cried my father, The wolves are there? Are they?
He jumped out of bed, threw on his clothes, and, in his
anxiety, did not appear to perceive the absence of his wife. As soon
as he was ready, I opened the door. He went out, and
I followed him. Imagine his hoar when unprepared as he was for such a
sight. He beheld as he advanced towards the grave, not a wolf,
but his wife, in her night dress, on her hands and knees,
crouching by the body of my sister, and tearing off large pieces of the
flesh and devouring them with all the avidity of a wolf. She was too
busy to be aware of our approach. My father dropped his gun. His
hair stood on end, so did mine. He breathed heavily, and then
his breath for a time stopped. I picked up the gun and put it
into his hand. Suddenly he appeared as if concentrated rage had restored him to
double vigor. He leveled his piece, fired, and with a loud shriek,
down fell the wretch whom he had fostered in his bosom. God of
Heaven, cried my father, sinking down upon the earth in a swoon.
As soon as he had discharged his gun, I remained some time by his
side before he recovered. Where am I said? He? What has happened?
Oh, yes, yes, I recollect Now, Heaven forgive me.
He rose, and we walked up to the grave. What again was our
astonishment and horror to find that, instead of the dead body of my mother
in law. As we had expected, there was lying over the remains of
my poor sister, a large white she wolf. The white wolf, exclaimed
my father, the white wolf, which decoyed me into the force. I
see it all now, I have dealt with the spirits of the Hart's Mountains.
For some time, my father remained in silence and deep thought. He
then carefully lifted up the body of my sister, replaced it in the grave,
and covered it over as before, having struck the head of the dead
animal with the heel of his boot, and raving like a madman, he
walked back to the cottage, shut the door, and threw himself on the
bed. I did the same, for I was in a stupor of amazement.
Early in the morning, we were both roused by a loud knocking at
the door, and in rushed the hunter Alfred my daughter. Man, my
daughter? Where is my daughter? Cried he in a rage. Where the
wretch, the fiend should be? I trust, replied my father, starting
up and display equal collar where she should be in hell. Leave this cottage
or you may fare worse. Ha ha, replied the hunter. Would you
harm a potent spirit of the Hart's Mountains? Poor mortal, who must needs
wedder werewolf out demon. I defy thee in thy power, Yet shall you
feel it? Remember your oath, your solemn oath, never to raise your
hand against her, to harm her. I made no compact with evil spirits.
You did, and if you failed in your vow, you were to
meet the vengeance of the spirits. Your children were to perish by the vulture,
the wolf out out demon, and the bones blanche in the wilderness.
Ah. My father, frantic with raids, seized his axe and raised it
over Wilford's head to strike all this, I swear, continued the huntsman mockingly.
The axe descended, but it passed through the form of the hunter,
and my father lost his balance and fell heavily on the floor. Mortal,
said the hunter, striding over my father's body. We have power over those
only who have committed murder. You have been guilty of a double murder.
You shall pay the penalty attached to your marriage vow. Two of your children
are gone, the third is yet to follow, and follow them he will,
for your oath is registered. Go it were kindness to kill thee.
Your punishment is that you live. End of the Werewolf by H. B. Marriott