The werewolf. My father was not born or originally a resident in the Hearts
Mountains. He was a 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 became 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 Hearts Mountains. Of course, all that I have now told you
I learned afterwards. My oldest recollections are knit to a rood 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. My father 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 summertime,
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 the 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 find into 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 based 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, and 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 in abuse of women,
and busied himself with a 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 examine 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 older brother 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 wandering 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 snobb darling. 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,
and 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 scene 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 mid 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 a 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?
Mineher observe the huntsman. I will take care of him, replied my father,
going out to 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, 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 hunter Krantz,
what crance of blank? I have heard of your tale? You need not
renew your grief by repeating, And how welcome, most welcome mine heir,
And I may say, my worthy kinsman, I am your second cousin,
Wilfred 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 way. 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 sit up with her,
conversing in a low tone by the fire. I ought to have mentioned that
my father and the huntsman Wilfred, slept in another portion of the cottage,
and that the bed which he formerly occupied, and which was in the same
rum as ours, had been given up to the use of Christina. These
visitors had been about three weeks sat 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, mynheer Krantz,
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's 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, replied my father.
Then take her by the hand, now mine hair, swear, I swear,
repeated my father, by all the spirits of the hearts 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?
Rejoin 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 Heart'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 blanch 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 nightclothes, 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 like 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 was 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 through the garments she had worn into the fire, and
we then perceived that her right leg was bleeding profusely, as if from a
gunshot 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 and
less from his gun? At last my father rose, and then for the
first time I spoke, saying, Father, where's 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 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 imploringly that I desisted. My father therefore was left in his air.
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 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 growls under our window every night. Father said, I aye, 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 force, 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 bunt herself.
Father said, I throw 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. 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 horror 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
sometime by his side before he recovered. Where am I said? He?
What has happened? Oh yea, yes, I recollect Now Heaven forgive me.
He rose, and we walked up to the grave. What again was
our astonishment and whore 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 forest. I see
it all now. I have dealt with the spirits of the Hartz 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 of Elfred my daughter. Man, my
daughter, where's 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 Heart mountains, Poor mortal who must needs Weder.
Weare wolf 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 raid, seized his axe and raised it
over Wolfrid's head to strike all this, I swear, continued the huntsman mockingly.
The acts 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