been visible again, and the cottagers on the wood have seen a great fire all evening on the hill top, and horrible figures dancing round it.’
“‘Bravo!’ cried the Count knitting his brows, ‘these old fooleries are come once more all together on the carpet. I hope the spectre bride also, as she is called, will not fail to make her entrée!’ The house steward here winked to the gardener, in order that he might not provoke his master any farther; but I interposed. ‘At least, one may hear quietly what the good people suppose that they have seen. Friend,’ added I to the gardener, ‘what then is the story of the spectre bride?’ The man shrugged his shoulders as if he wished to speak, but dared not. ‘Did I not tell you,’ said the Count, ‘that we might hear about this also? In what form then has she thought proper to come among us now?’ ‘If I may be allowed to speak,’ answered the gardener, ‘the spectre bride passed by me only about half an hour ago in the garden. She had the figure and dress of the late Countess Hildegarde, and went, as I thought, into the castle.’—‘Mark you, fellow,’ said his master sternly; ‘have some discretion for the future in your phantoms, and leave
