in silent fear, and lost sight of all her philosophical disbelief in ghosts and spectres. John, whom Black Mantle appeared to have selected for especial notice, had just, in the anguish of his heart, commenced the exorcism so dreaded by evil spirits: “All good angels”when, before he could get out another word, the apparition threw his head at him with so true an aim as to knock him off his perch; at the same instant, the postillion was stretched on the ground by a blow from a cudgel, and the phantom exclaimed, in a hollow, sepulchral voice: “Take that from Rubezahl, the Lord of the Mountain, whose domain thou hast dared to trespass upon! As to the rest, vessel, crew, cargo, all are mine; a lawful prize.” The spectre then sprung into the saddle, put the horses to full speed, rattled the carriage over one hill after another, over stock and stone, at such a rate that the noise of the wheels and of the horses entirely drowned the screams of the poor ladies.
Suddenly the party was increased; a horseman rode for a few minutes by the side of the postillion, without seeming to pay any attention to the unusual circumstance of his being without a head; he then rode on in front, as though he were the Countess’s courier. The accession seemed not at all agreeable to Black Cloak, who changed his direction, but the courier did the same; and, turn which way he would, the headless postillion saw his troublesome companion before him.
