Speaker 1: 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