Wake Not The Dead.
Wake Not the Dead
1823
Johann Ludwig Tieck
"Wilt thou for ever sleep? Wilt thou never more awake, my beloved, but
henceforth repose for ever from thy short pilgrimage on earth? O yet once again
return! and bring back with thee the vivifying dawn of hope to one whose
existence hath, since thy departure, been obscured by the dunnest shades. What!
dumb? for ever dumb? Thy friend lamenteth, and thou heedest him not? He sheds
bitter, scalding tears, and thou reposest unregarding his affliction? He is in
despair, and thou no longer openest thy arms to him as an asylum from his grief?
Say then, doth the paly shroud become thee better than the bridal veil? Is the
chamber of the grave a warmer bed than the couch of love? Is the spectre death
more welcome to thy arms than thy enamoured consort? Oh! return, my beloved,
return once again to this anxious disconsolate bosom."
Such were the lamentations which Walter poured forth for his Brunhilda, the
partner of his youthful passionate love; thus did he bewail over her grave at the
midnight hour, what time the spirit that presides in the troublous atmosphere,
sends his legions of monsters through mid-air; so that their shadows, as they flit
beneath the moon and across the earth, dart as wild, agitating thoughts that chase
each other o'er the sinner's bosom: -- thus did he lament under the tall linden trees
by her grave, while his head reclined on the cold stone.
Walter was a powerful lord in Burgundy, who, in his earliest youth, had been
smitten with the charms of the fair Brunhilda, a beauty far surpassing in
loveliness all her rivals; for her tresses, dark as the raven face of night, streaming
over her shoulders, set off to the utmost advantage the beaming lustre of her
slender form, and the rich dye of a cheek whose tint was deep and brilliant as that
of the western heaven; her eyes did not resemble those burning orbs whose pale
glow gems the vault of night, and whose immeasurable distance fills the soul
with deep thoughts of eternity. but rather as the sober beams which cheer this
nether world, and which, while they enlighten, kindle the sons of earth to joy and
love. Brunhilda became the wife of Walter, and both being equally enamoured
and devoted, they abandoned themselves to the enjoyment of a passion that
rendered them reckless of aught besides, while it lulled them in a fascinating
dream. Their sole apprehension was lest aught should awaken them from a
delirium which they prayed might continue for ever. Yet how vain is the wish
that would arrest the decrees of destiny! as well might it seek to divert the
circling planets from their eternal course. Short was the duration of this
phrenzied passion; not that it gradually decayed and subsided into apathy, but
death snatched away his blooming victim, and left Walter to a widowed couch.
Impetuous, however, as was his first burst of grief, he was not inconsolable, for
ere long another bride became the partner of the youthful nobleman.
Swanhilda also was beautiful; although nature had formed her charms on a very
different model from those of Brunhilda. Her golden locks waved bright as the
beams of morn: only when excited by some emotion of her soul did a rosy hue
tinge the lily paleness of her cheek: her limbs were proportioned in the nicest
symmetry, yet did they not possess that luxuriant fullness of animal life: her eye
beamed eloquently, but it was with the milder radiance of a star, tranquillizing to
tenderness rather than exciting to warmth. Thus formed, it was not possible that
she should steep him in his former delirium, although she rendered happy his
waking hours -- tranquil and serious, yet cheerful, studying in all things her
husband's pleasure, she restored order and comfort in his family, where her
presence shed a general influence all around. Her mild benevolence tended to
restrain the fiery, impetuous disposition of Walter: while at the same time her
prudence recalled him in some degree from his vain, turbulent wishes, and his
aspirings after unattainable enjoyments, to the duties and pleasures of actual life.
Swanhilda bore her husband two children, a son and a daughter; the latter was
mild and patient as her mother, well contented with her solitary sports, and even
in these recreations displayed the serious turn of her character. The boy
possessed his father's fiery, restless disposition, tempered, however, with the
solidity of his mother. Attached by his offspring more tenderly towards their
mother, Walter now lived for several years very happily: his thoughts would
frequently, indeed, recur to Brunhilda, but without their former violence, merely
as we dwell upon the memory of a friend of our earlier days, borne from us on
the rapid current of time to a region where we know that he is happy.
But clouds dissolve into air, flowers fade, the sands of the hourglass run
impeceptibly away, and even so, do human feelings dissolve, fade, and pass
away, and with them too, human happiness. Walter's inconstant breast again
sighed for the ecstatic dreams of those days which he had spent with his equally
romantic, enamoured Brunhilda -- again did she present herself to his ardent
fancy in all the glow of her bridal charms, and he began to draw a parallel
between the past and the present; nor did imagination, as it is wont, fail to array
the former in her brightest hues, while it proportionably obscured the latter; so
that he pictured to himself, the one much more rich in enjoyment, and the other,
much less so than they really were. This change in her husband did not escape
Swanhilda; whereupon, redoubling her attentions towards him, and her cares
towards their children, she expected, by this means, to reunite the knot that was
slackened; yet the more she endeavoured to regain his affections, the colder did
he grow, -- the more intolerable did her caresses seem, and the more continually
did the image of Brunhilda haunt his thoughts. The children, whose endearments
were now become indispensable to him, alone stood between the parents as genii
eager to affect a reconciliation; and, beloved by them both, formed a uniting link
between them. Yet, as evil can be plucked from the heart of man, only ere its root
has yet struck deep, its fangs being afterwards too firm to be eradicated; so was
Walter's diseased fancy too far affected to have its disorder stopped, for, in a
short time, it completely tyrannized over him. Frequently of a night, instead of
retiring to his consort's chamber, he repaired to Brunhilda's grave, where he
murmured forth his discontent, saying: "Wilt thou sleep for ever?"
One night as he was reclining on the turf, indulging in his wonted sorrow, a
sorcerer from the neighbouring mountains, entered into this field of death for the
purpose of gathering, for his mystic spells, such herbs as grow only from the
earth wherein the dead repose, and which, as if the last production of mortality,
are gifted with a powerful and supernatural influence. The sorcerer perceived the
mourner, and approached the spot where he was lying.
"Wherefore, fond wretch, dost thou grieve thus, for what is now a hideous mass
of mortality -- mere bones, and nerves, and veins? Nations have fallen
unlamented; even worlds themselves, long ere this globe of ours was created,
have mouldered into nothing; nor hath any one wept over them; why then
should'st thou indulge this vain affliction for a child of the dust -- a being as frail
as thyself, and like thee the creature but of a moment?"
Walter raised himself up: -- "Let yon worlds that shine in the firmament" replied
he, "lament for each other as they perish. It is true, that I who am myself clay,
lament for my fellow-clay: yet is this clay impregnated with a fire, -- with an
essence, that none of the elements of creation possess -- with love: and this
divine passion, I felt for her who now sleepeth beneath this sod."
"Will thy complaints awaken her: or could they do so, would she not soon
upbraid thee for having disturbed that repose in which she is now hushed?"
"Avaunt, cold-hearted being: thou knowest not what is love. Oh! that my tears
could wash away the earthy covering that conceals her from these eyes; -- that
my groan of anguish could rouse her from her slumber of death! -- No, she would
not again seek her earthy couch."
"Insensate that thou art, and couldst thou endure to gaze without shuddering on
one disgorged from the jaws of the grave? Art thou too thyself the same from
whom she parted; or hath time passed o'er thy brow and left no traces there?
Would not thy love rather be converted into hate and disgust?"
"Say rather that the stars would leave yon firmament, that the sun will henceforth
refuse to shed his beams through the heavens. Oh! that she stood once more
before me; -- that once again she reposed on this bosom! -- how quickly should
we then forget that death or time had ever stepped between us."
"Delusion! mere delusion of the brain, from heated blood, like to that which
arises from the fumes of wine. It is not my wish to tempt thee; -- to restore to
thee thy dead; else wouldst thou soon feel that I have spoken truth."
"How! restore her to me," exclaimed Walter casting himself at the sorcerer's feet.
"Oh! if thou art indeed able to effect that, grant it to my earnest supplication; if
one throb of human feeling vibrates in thy bosom, let my tears prevail with thee;
restore to me my beloved; so shalt thou hereafter bless the deed, and see that it
was a good work."
"A good work! a blessed deed!" -- returned the sorcerer with a smile of scorn;
"for me there exists nor good nor evil; since my will is always the same. Ye alone
know evil, who will that which ye would not. It is indeed in my power to restore
her to thee: yet, bethink thee well, whether it will prove thy weal. Consider too,
how deep the abyss between life and death; across this, my power can build a
bridge, but it can never fill up the frightful chasm."
Walter would have spoken, and have sought to prevail on this powerful being by
fresh entreaties, but the latter prevented him, saying: "Peace! bethink thee well!
and return hither to me tomorrow at midnight. Yet once more do I warn thee,
'Wake not the dead.' "
Having uttered these words, the mysterious being disappeared. Intoxicated with
fresh hope, Walter found no sleep on his couch; for fancy, prodigal of her richest
stores, expanded before him the glittering web of futurity; and his eye, moistened
with the dew of rapture, glanced from one vision of happiness to another. During
the next day he wandered through the woods, lest wonted objects by recalling the
memory of later and less happier times, might disturb the blissful idea. that he
should again behold her -- again fold her in his arms, gaze on her beaming brow
by day, repose on her bosom at night: and, as this sole idea filled his imagination,
how was it possible that the least doubt should arise; or that the warning of the
mysterious old man should recur to his thoughts?
No sooner did the midnight hour approach, than he hastened before the grave-
field where the sorcerer was already standing by that of Brunhilda. "Hast thou
maturely considered?" inquired he.
"Oh! restore to me the object of my ardent passion," exclaimed Walter with
impetuous eagerness. "Delay not thy generous action, lest I die even this night,
consumed with disappointed desire; and behold her face no more."
"Well then," answered the old man, "return hither again tomorrow at the same
hour. But once more do I give thee this friendly warning, 'Wake not the dead.' "
All in the despair of impatience, Walter would have prostrated himself at his feet,
and supplicated him to fulfil at once a desire now increased to agony; but the
sorcerer had already disappeared. Pouring forth his lamentations more wildly and
impetuously than ever, he lay upon the grave of his adored one, until the grey
dawn streaked the east. During the day, which seemed to him longer than any he
had ever experienced, he wandered to and fro, restless and impatient, seemingly
without any object, and deeply buried in his own reflections, inquest as the
murderer who meditates his first deed of blood: and the stars of evening found
him once more at the appointed spot. At midnight the sorcerer was there also.
"Hast thou yet maturely deliberated?" inquired he, "as on the preceding night?"
"Oh what should I deliberate?" returned Walter impatiently. "I need not to
deliberate; what I demand of thee, is that which thou hast promised me -- that
which will prove my bliss. Or dost thou but mock me? if so, hence from my
sight, lest I be tempted to lay my hand on thee."
"Once more do I warn thee." answered the old man with undisturbed composure,
" 'Wake not the dead' -- let her rest."
"Aye, but not in the cold grave: she shall rather rest on this bosom which burns
with eagerness to clasp her."
"Reflect, thou mayst not quit her until death, even though aversion and horror
should seize thy heart. There would then remain only one horrible means."
"Dotard!" cried Walter, interrupting him, 'how may I hate that which I love with
such intensity of passion? how should I abhor that for which my every drop of
blood is boiling?"
"Then be it even as thou wishest," answered the sorcerer; "step back."
The old man now drew a circle round the grave, all the while muttering words of
enchantment. Immediately the storm began to howl among the tops of the trees;
owls flapped their wings, and uttered their low voice of omen; the stars hid their
mild, beaming aspect, that they might not behold so unholy and impious a
spectacle; the stone then rolled from the grave with a hollow sound, leaving a
free passage for the inhabitant of that dreadful tenement. The sorcerer scattered
into the yawning earth, roots and herbs of most magic power, and of most
penetrating odour. so that the worms crawling forth from the earth congregated
together, and raised themselves in a fiery column over the grave: while rushing
wind burst from the earth, scattering the mould before it, until at length the coffin
lay uncovered. The moonbeams fell on it, and the lid burst open with a
tremendous sound. Upon this the sorcerer poured upon it some blood from out of
a human skull, exclaiming at the same time, "Drink, sleeper, of this warm stream,
that thy heart may again beat within thy bosom." And, after a short pause,
shedding on her some other mystic liquid, he cried aloud with the voice of one
inspired: "Yes, thy heart beats once more with the flood of life: thine eye is again
opened to sight. Arise, therefore, from the tomb."
As an island suddenly springs forth from the dark waves of the ocean, raised
upwards from the deep by the force of subterraneous fires, so did Brunhilda start
from her earthy couch, borne forward by some invisible power. Taking her by the
hand, the sorcerer led her towards Walter, who stood at some little distance,
rooted to the ground with amazement.
"Receive again," said he, "the object of thy passionate sighs: mayest thou never
more require my aid; should that, however, happen, so wilt thou find me, during
the full of the moon, upon the mountains in that spot and where the three roads
meet."
Instantly did Walter recognize in the form that stood before him, her whom he so
ardently loved; and a sudden glow shot through his frame at finding her thus
restored to him: yet the night-frost had chilled his limbs and palsied his tongue.
For a while he gazed upon her without either motion or speech, and during this
pause, all was again become hushed and serene; and the stars shone brightly in
the clear heavens.
"Walter!" exclaimed the figure; and at once the well-known sound, thrilling to his
heart, broke the spell by which he was bound.
"Is it reality? Is it truth?" cried he, "or a cheating delusion?"
"No, it is no imposture; I am really living: -- conduct me quickly to thy castle in
the mountains."
Walter looked around: the old man had disappeared, but he perceived close by
his side, a coal-black steed of fiery eye, ready equipped to conduct him thence;
and on his back lay all proper attire for Brunhilda, who lost no time in arraying
herself. This being done, she cried; "Haste, let us away ere the dawn breaks, for
my eye is yet too weak to endure the light of day." Fully recovered from his
stupor, Walter leaped into his saddle, and catching up, with a mingled feeling of
delight and awe, the beloved being thus mysteriously restored from the power of
the grave, he spurred on across the wild, towards the mountains, as furiously as if
pursued by the shadows of the dead, hastening to recover from him their sister.
The castle to which Walter conducted his Brunhilda, was situated on a rock
between other rocks rising up above it. Here they arrived, unseen by any save one
aged domestic, on whom Walter imposed secrecy by the severest threats.
"Here will we tarry," said Brunhilda, "until I can endure the light, and until thou
canst look upon me without trembling as if struck with a cold chill." They
accordingly continued to make that place their abode: yet no one knew that
Brunhilda existed, save only that aged attendant, who provided their meals.
During seven entire days they had no light except that of tapers: during the next
seven, the light was admitted through the lofty casements only while the rising or
setting-sun faintly illumined the mountain-tops, the valley being still enveloped
in shade.
Seldom did Walter quit Brunhilda's side: a nameless spell seemed to attach him
to her; even the shudder which he felt in her presence, and which would not
permit him to touch her, was not unmixed with pleasure, like that thrilling awful
emotion felt when strains of sacred music float under the vault of some temple;
he rather sought, therefore, than avoided this feeling. Often too as he had
indulged in calling to mind the beauties of Brunhilda, she had never appeared so
fair, so fascinating, so admirable when depicted by his imagination, as when now
beheld in reality. Never till now had her voice sounded with such tones of
sweetness; never before did her language possess such eloquence as it now did,
when she conversed with him on the subject of the past. And this was the magic
fairy-land towards which her words constantly conducted him. Ever did she
dwell upon the days of their first love, those hours of delight which they had
participated together when the one derived all enjoyment from the other: and so
rapturous, so enchanting, so full of life did she recall to his imagination that
blissful season, that he even doubted whether he had ever experienced with her
so much felicity, or had been so truly happy. And, while she thus vividly
portrayed their hours of past delight, she delineated in still more glowing, more
enchanting colours, those hours of approaching bliss which now awaited them,
richer in enjoyment than any preceding ones. In this manner did she charm her
attentive auditor with enrapturing hopes for the future, and lull him into dreams
of more than mortal ecstasy; so that while he listened to her siren strain, he
entirely forgot how little blissful was the latter period of their union, when he had
often sighed at her imperiousness, and at her harshness both to himself and all his
household. Yet even had he recalled this to mind would it have disturbed him in
his present delirious trance? Had she not now left behind in the grave all the
frailty of mortality? Was not her whole being refined and purified by that long
sleep in which neither passion nor sin had approached her even in dreams? How
different now was the subject of her discourse! Only when speaking of her
affection for him, did she betray anything of earthly feeling: at other times, she
uniformly dwelt upon themes relating to the invisible and future world; when in
descanting and declaring the mysteries of eternity, a stream of prophetic
eloquence would burst from her lips.
In this manner had twice seven days elapsed, and, for the first time, Walter
beheld the being now dearer to him than ever, in the full light of day. Every trace
of the grave had disappeared from her countenance; a roseate tinge like the ruddy
streaks of dawn again beamed on her pallid cheek; the faint, mouldering taint of
the grave was changed into a delightful violet scent; the only sign of earth that
never disappeared. He no longer felt either apprehension or awe, as he gazed
upon her in the sunny light of day: it was not until now, that he seemed to have
recovered her completely; and, glowing with all his former passion towards her,
he would have pressed her to his bosom, but she gently repulsed him, saying: --
"Not yet -- spare your caresses until the moon has again filled her horn."
Spite of his impatience, Walter was obliged to await the lapse of another period
of seven days: but, on the night when the moon was arrived at the full, he
hastened to Brunhilda, whom he found more lovely than she had ever appeared
before. Fearing no obstacles to his transports, he embraced with all the fervour of
a deeply enamoured and successful lover. Brunhilda, however, still refused to
yield to his passion. "What!" exclaimed she, "is it fitting that I who have been
purified by death from the frailty of mortality, should become thy concubine,
while a mere daughter of the earth bears the title of thy wife: never shall it be.
No, it must be within the walls of thy palace, within that chamber where I once
reigned as queen, that thou obtainest the end of thy wishes, -- and of mine also,"
added she, imprinting a glowing kiss on the lips, and immediately disappeared.
Heated with passion, and determined to sacrifice everything to the
accomplishment of his desires, Walter hastily quitted the apartment, and shortly
after the castle itself. He travelled over mountain and across heath, with the
rapidity of a storm, so that the turf was flung up by his horse's hoofs; nor once
stopped until he arrived home.
Here, however, neither the affectionate caresses of Swanhilda, or those of his
children could touch his heart, or induce him to restrain his furious desires. Alas!
is the impetuous torrent to be checked in its devastating course by the beauteous
flowers over which it rushes, when they exclaim: -- "Destroyer, commiserate our
helpless innocence and beauty, nor lay us waste?" -- the stream sweeps over them
unregarding, and a single moment annihilates the pride of a whole summer.
Shortly afterwards did Walter begin to hint to Swanhilda that they were ill-suited
to each other; that he was anxious to taste that wild, tumultuous life, so well
according with the spirit of his sex, while she, on the contrary, was satisfied with
the monotonous circle of household enjoyments: -- that he was eager for
whatever promised novelty, while she felt most attached to what was familiarized
to her by habit: and lastly, that her cold disposition, bordering upon indifference,
but ill assorted with his ardent temperament: it was therefore more prudent that
they should seek apart from each other that happiness which they could not find
together. A sigh, and a brief acquiescence in his wishes was all the reply that
Swanhilda made: and, on the following morning, upon his presenting her with a
paper of separation, informing her that she was at liberty to return home to her
father, she received it most submissively: yet, ere she departed, she gave him the
following warning: "Too well do I conjecture to whom I am indebted for this our
separation. Often have I seen thee at Brunhilda's grave, and beheld thee there
even on that night when the face of the heavens was suddenly enveloped in a veil
of clouds. Hast thou rashly dared to tear aside the awful veil that separates the
mortality that dreams, from that which dreameth not? Oh! then woe to thee, thou
wretched man, for thou hast attached to thyself that which will prove thy
destruction."
She ceased: nor did Walter attempt any reply, for the similar admonition uttered
by the sorcerer flashed upon his mind, all obscured as it was by passion, just as
the lightning glares momentarily through the gloom of night without dispersing
the obscurity.
Swanhilda then departed, in order to pronounce to her children, a bitter farewell,
for they, according to national custom, belonged to the father; and, having bathed
them in her tears, and consecrated them with the holy water of maternal love, she
quitted her husband's residence, and departed to the home of her father's.
Thus was the kind and benevolent Swanhilda driven an exile from those halls
where she had presided with grace; -- from halls which were now newly
decorated to receive another mistress. The day at length arrived on which Walter,
for the second time, conducted Brunhilda home as a newly made bride. And he
caused it to be reported among his domestics that his new consort had gained his
affections by her extraordinary likeness to Brunhilda, their former mistress. How
ineffably happy did he deem himself as he conducted his beloved once more into
the chamber which had often witnessed their former joys, and which was now
newly gilded and adorned in a most costly style: among the other decorations
were figures of angels scattering roses, which served to support the purple
draperies whose ample folds o'ershadowed the nuptial couch. With what
impatience did he await the hour that was to put him in possession of those
beauties for which he had already paid so high a price, but, whose enjoyment was
to cost him most dearly yet! Unfortunate Walter! revelling in bliss, thou
beholdest not the abyss that yawns beneath thy feet, intoxicated with the luscious
perfume of the flower thou hast plucked, thou little deemest how deadly is the
venom with which it is fraught, although, for a short season, its potent fragrance
bestows new energy on all thy feelings.
Happy, however, as Walter was now, his household were far from being equally
so. The strange resemblance between their new lady and the deceased Brunhilda
filled them with a secret dismay, -- an undefinable horror; for there was not a
single difference of feature, of tone of voice, or of gesture. To add too to these
mysterious circumstances, her female attendants discovered a particular mark on
her back, exactly like one which Brunhilda had. A report was now soon
circulated, that their lady was no other than Brunhilda herself, who had been
recalled to life by the power of necromancy. How truly horrible was the idea of
living under the same roof with one who had been an inhabitant of the tomb, and
of being obliged to attend upon her, and acknowledge her as mistress! There was
also in Brunhilda much to increase this aversion, and favour their superstition: no
ornaments of gold ever decked her person; all that others were wont to wear of
this metal, she had formed of silver: no richly coloured and sparkling jewels
glittered upon her; pearls alone, lent their pale lustre to adorn her bosom. Most
carefully did she always avoid the cheerful light of the sun, and was wont to
spend the brightest days in the most retired and gloomy apartments: only during
the twilight of the commencing or declining day did she ever walk abroad, but
her favourite hour was when the phantom light of the moon bestowed on all
objects a shadowy appearance and a sombre hue; always too at the crowing of the
cock an involuntary shudder was observed to seize her limbs. Imperious as
before her death, she quickly imposed her iron yoke on every one around her,
while she seemed even far more terrible than ever, since a dread of some
supernatural power attached to her, appalled all who approached her. A
malignant withering glance seemed to shoot from her eye on the unhappy object
of her wrath, as if it would annihilate its victim. In short, those halls which, in the
time of Swanhilda were the residence of cheerfulness and mirth, now resembled
an extensive desert tomb. With fear imprinted on their pale countenances, the
domestics glided through the apartments of the castle; and in this abode of terror,
the crowing of the cock caused the living to tremble, as if they were the spirits of
the departed; for the sound always reminded them of their mysterious mistress.
There was no one but who shuddered at meeting her in a lonely place, in the dusk
of evening, or by the light of the moon, a circumstance that was deemed to be
ominous of some evil: so great was the apprehension of her female attendants,
they pined in continual disquietude, and, by degrees, all quitted her. In the course
of time even others of the domestics fled, for an insupportal horror had seized
them.
The art of the sorcerer had indeed bestowed upon Brunhilda an artificial life, and
due nourishment had continued to support the restored body: yet this body was
not able of itself to keep up the genial glow of vitality, and to nourish the flame
whence springs all the affections and passions, whether of love or hate; for death
had for ever destroyed and withered it: all that Brunhilda now possessed was a
chilled existence, colder than that of the snake. It was nevertheless necessary that
she should love, and return with equal ardour the warm caresses of her spell-
enthralled husband, to whose passion alone she was indebted for her renewed
existence. It was necessary that a magic draught should animate the dull current
in her veins and awaken her to the glow of life and the flame of love -- a potion
of abomination -- one not even to be named without a curse -- human blood,
imbibed whilst yet warm, from the veins of youth. This was the hellish drink for
which she thirsted: possessing no sympathy with the purer feelings of humanity;
deriving no enjoyment from aught that interests in life and occupies its varied
hours; her existence was a mere blank, unless when in the arms of her paramour
husband, and therefore was it that she craved incessantly after the horrible
draught. It was even with the utmost effort that she could forbear sucking even
the blood of Walter himself, reclined beside her. Whenever she beheld some
innocent child whose lovely face denoted the exuberance of infantine health and
vigour, she would entice it by soothing words and fond caresses into her most
secret apartment, where, lulling it to sleep in her arms, she would suck form its
bosom the war, purple tide of life. Nor were youths of either sex safe from her
horrid attack: having first breathed upon her unhappy victim, who never failed
immediately to sink into a lengthened sleep, she would then in a similar manner
drain his veins of the vital juice. Thus children, youths, and maidens quickly
faded away, as flowers gnawn by the cankering worm: the fullness of their limbs
disappeared; a sallow line succeeded to the rosy freshness of their cheeks, the
liquid lustre of the eye was deadened, even as the sparkling stream when arrested
by the touch of frost; and their locks became thin and grey, as if already ravaged
by the storm of life. Parents beheld with horror this desolating pestilence
devouring their offspring; nor could simple or charm, potion or amulet avail
aught against it. The grave swallowed up one after the other; or did the miserable
victim survive, he became cadaverous and wrinkled even in the very morn of
existence. Parents observed with horror this devastating pestilence snatch away
their offspring -- a pestilence which, nor herb however potent, nor charm, nor
holy taper, nor exorcism could avert. They either beheld their children sink one
after the other into the grave, or their youthful forms, withered by the unholy,
vampire embrace of Brunhilda, assume the decrepitude of sudden age.
At length strange surmises and reports began to prevail; it was whispered that
Brunhilda herself was the cause of all these horrors; although no one could
pretend to tell in what manner she destroyed her victims, since no marks of
violence were discernible. Yet when young children confessed that she had
frequently lulled them asleep in her arms, and elder ones said that a sudden
slumber had come upon them whenever she began to converse with them,
suspicion became converted into certainty, and those whose offspring had
hitherto escaped unharmed, quitted their hearths and home -- all their little
possessions -- the dwellings of their fathers and the inheritance of their children,
in order to rescue from so horrible a fate those who were dearer to their simple
affections than aught else the world could give.
Thus daily did the castle assume a more desolate appearance; daily did its
environs become more deserted; none but a few aged decrepit old women and
grey-headed menials were to be seen remaining of the once numerous retinue.
Such will in the latter days of the earth be the last generation of mortals, when
childbearing shall have ceased, when youth shall no more be seen, nor any arise
to replace those who shall await their fate in silence.
Walter alone noticed not, or heeded not, the desolation around him; he
apprehended not death, lapped as he was in a glowing elysium of love. Far more
happy than formerly did he now seem in the possession of Brunhilda. All those
caprices and frowns which had been wont to overcloud their former union had
now entirely disappeared. She even seemed to doat on him with a warmth of
passion that she had never exhibited even during the happy season of bridal love;
for the flame of that youthful blood, of which she drained the veins of others,
rioted in her own. At night, as soon as he closed his eyes, she would breathe on
him till he sank into delicious dreams, from which he awoke only to experience
more rapturous enjoyments. By day she would continually discourse with him on
the bliss experienced by happy spirits beyond the grave, assuring him that, as his
affection had recalled her from the tomb, they were now irrevocably united. Thus
fascinated by a continual spell, it was not possible that he should perceive what
was taking place around him. Brunhilda, however, foresaw with savage grief that
the source of her youthful ardour was daily decreasing, for, in a short time, there
remained nothing gifted with youth, save Walter and his children, and these latter
she resolved should be her next victims.
On her first return to the castle, she had felt an aversion towards the offspring of
another, and therefore abandoned them entirely to the attendants appointed by
Swanhilda. Now, however, she began to pay considerable attention to them, and
caused them to be frequently admitted into her presence. The aged nurses were
filled with dread at perceiving these marks of regard from her towards their
young charges, yet dared they not to oppose the will of their terrible and
imperious mistress. Soon did Brunhilda gain the affection of the children, who
were too unsuspecting of guile to apprehend any danger from her; on the
contrary, her caresses won them completely to her. Instead of ever checking their
mirthful gambols, she would rather instruct them in new sports: often too did she
recite to them tales of such strange and wild interest as to exceed all the stories of
their nurses. Were they wearied either with play or with listening to her
narratives, she would take them on her knees and lull them to slumber. Then did
visions of the most surpassing magnificence attend their dreams: they would
fancy themselves in some garden where flowers of every hue rose in rows one
above the other, from the humble violet to the tall sunflower, forming a parti-
coloured broidery of every hue, sloping upwards towards the golden clouds
where little angels whose wings sparkled with azure and gold descended to bring
them delicious cakes or splendid jewels; or sung to them soothing melodious
hymns. So delightful did these dream in short time become to the children that
they longered for nothing so eagerly as to slumber on Brunhilda's lap, for never
did they else enjoy such visions of heavenly forms. They were they most anxious
for that which was to prove their destruction: -- yet do we not all aspire after that
which conducts us to the grave -- after the enjoyment of life? These innocents
stretched out their arms to approaching death because it assumed the mask of
pleasure; for, which they were lapped in these ecstatic slumbers, Brunhilda
sucked the life-stream from their bosoms. On waking, indeed, they felt
themselves faint and exhausted, yet did no pain nor any mark betray the cause.
Shortly, however, did their strength entirely fail, even as the summer brook is
gradually dried up: their sports became less and less noisy; their loud, frolicsome
laughter was converted into a faint smile; the full tones of their voices died away
into a mere whisper. Their attendants were filled with horror and despair; too
well did they conjecture the horrible truth, yet dared not to impart their
suspicions to Walter, who was so devotedly attached to his horrible partner.
Death had already smote his prey: the children were but the mere shadows of
their former selves, and even this shadow quickly disappeared.
The anguished father deeply bemoaned their loss, for, notwithstanding his
apparent neglect, he was strongly attached to them, nor until he had experienced
their loss was he aware that his love was so great. His affliction could not fail to
excite the displeasure of Brunhilda: "Why dost thou lament so fondly," said she,
"for these little ones? What satisfaction could such unformed beings yield to thee
unless thou wert still attached to their mother? Thy heart then is still hers? Or
dost thou now regret her and them because thou art satiated with my fondness
and weary of my endearments? Had these young ones grown up, would they not
have attached thee, thy spirit and thy affections more closely to this earth of clay
-- to this dust and have alienated thee from that sphere to which I, who have
already passed the grave, endeavour to raise thee? Say is thy spirit so heavy, or
thy love so weak, or thy faith so hollow, that the hope of being mine for ever is
unable to touch thee?" Thus did Brunhilda express her indignation at her
consort's grief, and forbade him her presence. The fear of offending her beyond
forgiveness and his anxiety to appease her soon dried up his tears; and he again
abandoned himself to his fatal passion, until approaching destruction at length
awakened him from his delusion.
Neither maiden, nor youth, was any longer to be seen, either within the dreary
walls of the castle, or the adjoining territory: -- all had disappeared; for those
whom the grave had not swallowed up had fled from the region of death. Who,
therefore, now remained to quench the horrible thirst of the female vampire save
Walter himself? and his death she dared to contemplate unmoved; for that divine
sentiment that unites two beings in one joy and one sorrow was unknown to her
bosom. Was he in his tomb, so was she free to search out other victims and glut
herself with destruction, until she herself should, at the last day, be consumed
with the earth itself, such is the fatal law to which the dead are subject when
awoke by the arts of necromancy from the sleep of the grave.
She now began to fix her blood-thirsty lips on Walter's breast,when cast into a
profound sleep by the odour of her violet breath he reclined beside her quite
unconscious of his impending fate: yet soon did his vital powers begin to decay;
and many a grey hair peeped through his raven locks. With his strength, his
passion also declined; and he now frequently left her in order to pass the whole
day in the sports of the chase, hoping thereby to regain his wonted vigour. As he
was reposing one day in a wood beneath the shade of an oak, he perceived, on the
summit of a tree, a bird of strange appearance, and quite unknown to him; but,
before he could take aim at it with his bow, it flew away into the clouds; at the
same time letting fall a rose-coloured root which dropped at Walter's feet, who
immediately took it up and, although he was well acquainted with almost every
plant, he could not remember to have seen any at all resembling this. Its
delightfully odoriferous scent induced him to try its flavour, but ten times more
bitter than wormwood it was even as gall in his mouth; upon which, impatient of
the disappointment, he flung it away with violence. Had he, however, been aware
of its miraculous quality and that it acted as a counter charm against the opiate
perfume of Brunhilda's breath, he would have blessed it in spite of its bitterness:
thus do mortals often blindly cast away in displeasure the unsavoury remedy that
would otherwise work their weal.
When Walter returned home in the evening and laid him down to repose as usual
by Brunhilda's side, the magic power of her breath produced no effect upon him;
and for the first time during many months did he close his eyes in a natural
slumber. Yet hardly had he fallen asleep, ere a pungent smarting pain disturbed
him from his dreams; and. opening his eyes, he discerned, by the gloomy rays of
a lamp, that glimmered in the apartment what for some moments transfixed him
quite aghast, for it was Brunhilda, drawing with her lips, the warm blood from
his bosom. The wild cry of horror which at length escaped him, terrified
Brunhilda, whose mouth was besmeared with the warm blood. "Monster!"
exclaimed he, springing from the couch, "is it thus that you love me?"
"Aye, even as the dead love," replied she, with a malignant coldness.
"Creature of blood!" continued Walter, "the delusion which has so long blinded
me is at an end: thou are the fiend who hast destroyed my children -- who hast
murdered the offspring of my vassels." Raising herself upwards and, at the same
time, casting on him a glance that froze him to the spot with dread, she replied.
"It is not I who have murdered them; -- I was obliged to pamper myself with
warm youthful blood, in order that I might satisfy thy furious desires -- thou art
the murderer!" -- These dreadful words summoned, before Walter's terrified
conscience, the threatening shades of all those who had thus perished; while
despair choked his voice.
"Why," continued she, in a tone that increased his horror, "why dost thou make
mouths at me like a puppet? Thou who hadst the courage to love the dead -- to
take into thy bed, one who had been sleeping in the grave, the bed-fellow of the
worm -- who hast clasped in thy lustful arms, the the corruption of the tomb --
dost thou, unhallowed as thou art, now raise this hideous cry for the sacrifice of a
few lives? -- They are but leaves swept from their branches by a storm. -- Come,
chase these idiot fancies, and taste the bliss thou hast so dearly purchased." So
saying, she extended her arms towards him; but this motion served only to
increase his terror, and exclaiming: "Accursed Being," -- he rushed out of the
apartment.
All the horrors of a guilty, upbraiding conscience became his companions, now
that he was awakened from the delirium of his unholy pleasures. Frequently did
he curse his own obstinate blindness, for having given no heed to the hints and
admonitions of his children's nurses, but treating them as vile calumnies. But his
sorrow was now too late, for, although repentance may gain pardon for the
sinner, it cannot alter the immutable decrees of fate -- it cannot recall the
murdered from the tomb. No sooner did the first break of dawn appear, than he
set out for his lonely castle in the mountains, determined no longer to abide under
the same roof with so terrific a being; yet vain was his flight, for, on waking the
following morning, he perceived himself in Brunhilda's arms, and quite
entangled in her long raven tresses, which seemed to involve him, and bind him
in the fetters of his fate; the powerful fascination of her breath held him still more
captivated, so that, forgetting all that had passed, he returned her caresses, until
awakening as if from a dream he recoiled in unmixed horror from her embrace.
During the day he wandered through the solitary wilds of the mountains, as a
culprit seeking an asylum from his pursuers; and, at night, retired to the shelter of
a cave; fearing less to couch himself within such a dreary place, than to expose
himself to the horror of again meeting Brunhilda; but alas! it was in vain that he
endeavoured to flee her. Again, when he awoke, he found her the partner of his
miserable bed. Nay, had he sought the centre of the earth as his hiding place; had
he even imbedded himself beneath rocks, or formed his chamber in the recesses
of the ocean, still had he found her his constant companion; for, by calling her
again into existence, he had rendered himself inseparably hers; so fatal were the
links that united them.
Struggling with the madness that was beginning to seize him, and brooding
incessantly on the ghastly visions that presented themselves to his horror-stricken
mind, he lay motionless in the gloomiest recesses of the woods, even from the
rise of sun till the shades of eve. But, no sooner was the light of day extinguished
in the west, and the woods buried in impenetrable darkness, than the
apprehension of resigning himself to sleep drove him forth among the mountains.
The storm played wildly with the fantastic clouds, and with the rattling leaves, as
they were caught up into the air, as if some dread spirit was sporting with these
images of transitoriness and decay: it roared among the summits of the oaks as if
uttering a voice of fury, while its hollow sound rebounding among the distant
hills, seemed as the moans of a departing sinner, or as the faint cry of some
wretch expiring under the murderer's hand: the owl too, uttered its ghastly cry as
if foreboding the wreck of nature. Walter's hair flew disorderly in the wind, like
black snakes wreathing around his temples and shoulders; while each sense was
awake to catch fresh horror. In the clouds he seemed to behold the forms of the
murdered; in the howling wind to hear their laments and groans; in the chilling
blast itself he felt the dire kiss of Brunhilda; in the cry of the screeching bird he
heard her voice; in the mouldering leaves he scented the charnel-bed out of
which he had awakened her. "Murderer of thy own offspring," exclaimed he in a
voice making night, and the conflict of the element still more hideous, "paramour
of a blood-thirsty vampire, reveller with the corruption of the tomb!" while in his
despair he rent the wild locks from his head. Just then the full moon darted from
beneath the bursting clouds; and the sight recalled to his remembrance the advice
of the sorcerer, when he trembled at the first apparition of Brunhilda rising from
her sleep of death; -- name]y, to seek him at the season of the full moon in the
mountains, where three roads met. Scarcely had this gleam of hope broke in on
his bewildered mind than he flew to the appointed spot.
On his arrival, Walter found the old man seated there upon a stone as calmly as
though it had been a bright sunny day and completely regardless of the uproar
around. "Art thou come then?" exclaimed he to the breathless wretch, who,
flinging himself at his feet, cried in a tone of anguish: -- "Oh save me -- succour
me -- rescue me from the monster that scattereth death and desolation around her.
"Wherefore a mysterious warning? why didst thou not rather disclose to me at
once all the horrors that awaited my sacrilegious profanation of the grave?"
"And wherefore a mysterious warning? why didst thou not perceivest how
wholesome was the advice -- 'Wake not the dead.'
"Wert thou able to listen to another voice than that of thy impetuous passions?
Did not thy eager impatience shut my mouth at the very moment I would have
cautioned thee?"
"True, true: -- thy reproof is just: but what does it avail now; -- I need the
promptest aid."
"Well," replied the old man, "there remains even yet a means of rescuing thyself,
but it is fraught with horror and demands all thy resolution."
"Utter it then, utter it; for what can be more appalling, more hideous than the
misery I now endure?"
"Know then," continued the sorcerer, "that only on the night of the new moon
does she sleep the sleep of mortals; and then all the supernaturural power which
she inherits from the grave totally fails her. 'Tis then that thou must murder her."
"How! murder her!" echoed Walter.
"Aye," returned the old man calmly, "pierce her bosom with a sharpened dagger,
which I will furnish thee with; at the same time renounce her memory for ever,
swearing never to think of her intentionally, and that, if thou dost involuntarily,
thou wilt repeat the curse."
"Most horrible! yet what can be more horrible than she herself is? -- I'll do it."
"Keep then this resolution until the next new moon."
"What, must I wait until then?" cried Walter, "alas ere then. either her savage
thirst for blood will have forced me into the night of the tomb, or horror will have
driven me into the night of madness."
"Nay," replied the sorcerer, "that I can prevent;" and, so saying, he conducted
him to a cavern further among the mountains. "Abide here twice seven days,"
said he; "so long can I protect thee against her deadly caresses. Here wilt thou
find all due provision for thy wants; but take heed that nothing tempt thee to quit
this place. Farewell, when the moon renews itself, then do I repair hither again."
So saying, the sorcerer drew a magic circle around the cave, and then
immediately disappeared.
Twice seven days did Walter continue in this solitude, where his companions
were his own terrifying thoughts, and his bitter repentance. The present was all
desolation and dread; the future presented the image of a horrible deed which he
must perforce commit; while the past was empoisoned by the memory of his
guilt. Did he think on his former happy union with Brunhilda, her horrible image
presented itself to his imagination with her lips defiled with dropping blood: or,
did he call to mind the peaceful days he had passed with Swanhilda, he beheld
her sorrowful spirit with the shadows of her murdered children. Such were the
horrors that attended him by day: those of night were still more dreadful, for then
he beheld Brunhilda herself, who, wandering round the magic circle which she
could not pass, called upon his name till the cavern reechoed the horrible sound.
"WaIter, my beloved," cried she, "wherefore dost thou avoid me? art thou not
mine? for ever mine -- mine here, and mine hereafter? And dost thou seek to
murder me? -- ah! commit not a deed which hurls us both to perdition -- thyself
as well as me." In this manner did the horrible visitant torment him each night,
and, even when she departed, robbed him of all repose.
The night of the new moon at length arrived, dark as the deed it was doomed to
bring forth. The sorcerer entered the cavern; "Come," said he to Walter, "let us
depart hence, the hour is now arrived:" and he forthwith conducted him in silence
from the cave to a coal-black steed, the sight of which recalled to Walter's
remembrance the fatal night. He then related to the old man Brunhilda's nocturnal
visits and anxiously inquired whether her apprehensions of eternal perdition
would be fulfilled or not. "Mortal eye," exclaimed the sorcerer, "may not pierce
the dark secrets of another world, or penetrate the deep abyss that separates earth
from heaven." Walter hesitated to mount the steed. "Be resolute," exclaimed his
companion, "but this once is it granted to thee to make the trial, and, should thou
fail now, nought can rescue thee from her power."
"What can be more horrible than she herself? -- I am determined:" and he leaped
on the horse, the sorcerer mounting also behind him.
Carried with a rapidity equal to that of the storm that sweeps across the plain they
in brief space arrived at Walter's castle. All the doors flew open at the bidding of
his companion, and they speedily reached Brunhilda's chamber, and stood beside
her couch. Reclining in a tranquil slumber; she reposed in all her native
loveliness, every trace of horror had disappeared from her countenance; she
looked so pure, meek and innocent that all the sweet hours of their endearments
rushed to Walter's memory, like interceding angels pleading in her behalf. His
unnerved hand could not take the dagger which the sorcerer presented to him.
"The blow must be struck even now:" said the latter, "shouldst thou delay but an
hour, she will lie at daybreak on thy bosom, sucking the warm life drops from thy
heart."
"Horrible! most horrible!" faltered the trembling Walter, and turning away his
face, he thrust the dagger into her bosom, exclaiming -- "I curse thee for ever! --
and the cold blood gushed upon his hand. Opening her eyes once more, she cast a
look of ghastly horror on her husband, and, in a hollow dying accent said --
"Thou too art doomed to perdition."
"Lay now thy hand upon her corpse," said the sorcerer, "and swear the oath." --
Walter did as commanded, saying, "Never will I think of her with love, never
recall her to mind intentionally, and, should her image recur to my mind
involuntarily, so will I exclaim to it: be thou accursed."
"Thou hast now done everything," returned the sorcerer; -- "restore her therefore
to the earth, from which thou didst so foolishly recall her; and be sure to recollect
thy oath: for, shouldst thou forget it but once, she would return, and thou wouldst
be inevitably lost. Adieu -- we see each other no more." Having uttered these
words he quitted the apartment, and Walter also fled from this abode of horror,
having first given direction that the corpse should be speedily interred.
Again did the terrific Brunhilda repose within her grave; but her image
continually haunted Walter's imagination, so that his existence was one continued
martyrdom, in which he continually struggled, to dismiss from his recollection
the hideous phantoms of the past; yet, the stronger his effort to banish them, so
much the more frequently and the more vividly did they return; as the night-
wanderer, who is enticed by a fire-wisp into quagmire or bog, sinks the deeper
into his damp grave the more he struggles to escape. His imagination seemed
incapable of admitting any other image than that of Brunhilda: now he fancied he
beheld her expiring, the blood streaming from her beautiful bosom: at others he
saw the lovely bride of his youth, who reproached him with having disturbed the
slumbers of the tomb; and to both he was compelled to utter the dreadful words,
"I curse thee for ever." The terrible imprecation was constantly passing his lips;
yet was he in incessant terror lest he should forget it, or dream of her without
being able to repeat it, and then, on awaking, find himself in her arms. Else
would he recall her expiring words, and, appalled at their terrific import, imagine
that the doom of his perdition was irrecoverably passed. Whence should he fly
from himself? or how erase from his brain these images and forms of horror? In
the din of combat, in the tumult of war and its incessant pour of victory to defeat;
from the cry of anguish to the exultation of victory -- in these he hoped to find at
least the relief of distraction: but here too he was disappointed. The giant fang of
apprehension now seized him who had never before known fear; each drop of
blood that sprayed upon him seemed the cold blood that had gushed from
Brunhilda's wound; each dying wretch that fell beside him looked like her, when
expiring, she exclaimed, -- "Thou too art doomed to perdition"; so that the aspect
of death seemed more full of dread to him than aught beside, and this
unconquerable terror compelled him to abandon the battle-field. At length, after
many a weary and fruitless wandering, he returned to his castle. Here all was
deserted and silent, as if the sword, or a still more deadly pestilence had laid
everything waste: for the few inhabitants that still remained, and even those
servants who had once shewn themselves the most attached, now fled from him,
as though he had been branded with the mark of Cain. With horror he perceived
that, by uniting himself as he had done with the dead, he had cut himself off from
the living, who refused to hold any intercourse with him. Often, when he stood
on the battlements of his castle, and looked down upon desolate fields, he
compared their present solitude with the lively activity they were wont to exhibit,
under the strict but benevolent discipline of Swanhilda. He now felt that she
alone could reconcile him to life, but durst he hope that one, whom he so deeply
aggrieved, could pardon him, and receive him again? Impatience at length got the
better of fear; he sought Swanhilda, and, with the deepest contrition,
acknowledged his complicated guilt; embracing her knees as he beseeched her to
pardon him, and to return to his desolate castle, in order that it might again
become the abode of contentment and peace. The pale form which she beheld at
her feet, the shadow of the lately blooming youth, touched Swanhilda. "The
folly," said she gently, "though it has caused me much sorrow, has never excited
my resentment or my anger. But say, where are my children?" To this dreadful
interrogation the agonized father could for a while frame no reply: at length he
was obliged to confess the dreadful truth. "Then we are sundered for ever,"
returned Swanhilda; nor could all his tears or supplications prevail upon her to
revoke the sentence she had given.
Stripped of his last earthly hope, bereft of his last consolation, and thereby
rendered as poor as mortal can possibly be on this side of the grave. Walter
returned homewards; when, as he was riding through the forest in the
neighbourhood of his castle, absorbed in his gloomy meditations, the sudden
sound of a horn roused him from his reverie. Shortly after he saw appear a female
figure clad in black, and mounted on a steed of the same colour: her attire was
like that of a huntress, but, instead of a falcon, she bore a raven in her hand; and
she was attended by a gay troop of cavaliers and dames. The first salutations
bring passed, he found that she was proceeding the same road as himself; and,
when she found that Walter's castle was close at hand, she requested that he
would lodge her for that night, the evening being far advanced. Most willingly
did he comply with this request, since the appearance of the beautiful stranger
had struck him greatly; so wonderfully did she resemble Swanhilda, except that
her locks were brown, and her eye dark and full of fire. With a sumptous banquet
did he entertain his guests, whose mirth and songs enlivened the lately silent
halls. Three days did this revelry continue, and so exhilarating did it prove to
Walter that he seemed to have forgotten his sorrows and his fears; nor could he
prevail upon himself to dismiss his visitors, dreading lest, on their departure, the
castle would seem a hundred times more desolate than before hand his grief be
proportionally increased. At his earnest request, the stranger consented to stay
seven, and again another seven days. Without being requested, she took upon
herself the superintendence of the household, which she regulated as discreetly
and cheerfully as Swanhilda had been wont to do, so that the castle, which had so
lately been the abode of melancholy and horror, became the residence of pleasure
and festivity, and Walter's grief disappeared altogether in the midst of so much
gaiety. Daily did his attachment to the fair unknown increase; he even made her
his confidant; and, one evening as they were walking together apart from any of
her train, he related to her his melancholy and frightful history. "My dear friend,"
returned she, as soon as he he had finished his tale, "it ill beseems a man of thy
discretion to afflict thyself on account of all this. Thou hast awakened the dead
from the sleep of the grave and afterwards found, -- what might have been
anticipated, that the dead possess no sympathy with life. What then? thou wilt not
commit this error a second time.
Thou hast however murdered the being whom thou hadst thus recalled again to
existence -- but it was only in appearance, for thou couldst not deprive that of life
which properly had none. Thou hast, too, lost a wife and two children: but at thy
years such a loss is most easily repaired. There are beauties who will gladly share
thy couch, and make thee again a father. But thou dreadst the reckoning of
hereafter: -- go, open the graves and ask the sleepers there whether that hereafter
disturbs them." In such manner would she frequently exhort and cheer him, so
that, in a short time. his melancholy entirely disappeared. He now ventured to
declare to the unknown the passion with which she had inspired him, nor did she
refuse him her hand. Within seven days afterwards the nuptials were celebrated,
and the very foundations of the castle seemed to rock from the wild tumultuous
uproar of unrestrained riot. The wine streamed in abundance; the goblets circled
incessantly; intemperance reached its utmost bounds, while shouts of laughter
almost resembling madness burst from the numerous train belonging to the
unknown. At length Walter, heated with wine and love, conducted his bride into
the nuptial chamber: but, oh! horror! scarcely had he clasped her in his arms ere
she transformed herself into a monstrous serpent, which entwining him in its
horrid folds, crushed him to death. Flames crackled on every side of the
apartment; in a few minutes after, the whole castle was enveloped in a blaze that
consumed it entirely: while, as the walls fell in with a tremendous crash, a voice
exclaimed aloud -- "Wake not the dead!"