insulted pilgrim, and laughed and mocked at him, calling out after him, ‘Bald head, bald head!’ as the wicked boys of old called after the holy prophet.
“Once a pilgrim came from abroad. He entered and asked for water to wash his feet, and a crust of bread. According to my custom, I took him into the bath, and, without respecting his venerable appearance, I shaved him also quite bald. But the pious pilgrim pronounced a heavy curse on me: ‘After death, reprobate! heaven and hell, and the iron gates of purgatory shall be equally inaccessible to thy soul. It shall dwell, as a spectre, within these walls, till a wanderer unasked shall retaliate on thee thy own evil deeds!’
“I grew sick at hearing the curse; the marrow of my bones dried up, and I decayed away gradually, till I became like a shadow; my soul at length separated from its mortal dwelling, but remained within this place, as the holy man had ordered. In vain I expected deliverance from the dreadful chains that bound me to the earth. The repose which the soul languishes for when it is separated from the body was denied to me, and made every year which I was obliged to pass here an age of woe. I was obliged also, as a further punishment, to continue the business which I had carried on during my lifetime. But, alas? my appearance soon made this house be deserted; it was very rarely that a pilgrim came to pass the night here, and, though I shaved every one who came as I did you, no one would understand me, and perform for me that service which was to deliver my soul from captivity. Henceforth I shall not haunt this castle. I now go to my long desired repose. Once more I give thee my thanks, young stranger. If I had any hidden treasures at my command, they should all be thine, but I never possessed wealth; in this castle there is no treasure hidden. But listen to my advice. Tarry here till your chin and head are again covered with hair, then return to your native city, and wait on the bridge over the Weser at the time of the autumnal equinox, for a friend, who will there meet and tell you what you must do to thrive on earth. Farewell; I now depart hence, never to return.”
The wicked wag of a landlord had watched from early dawn for the arrival of the castle guest. Anticipating a bald head, he was prepared to receive him with well-affected surprise, but secret ridicule, at his night’s adventure. As midday came, and no guest appeared, he grew uneasy lest the spectre had treated him too roughly—perhaps strangled, or frightened him to death. Not wishing to have carried the joke so far, he hastened with his servants in some anxiety towards the castle; and sought out the room where he had seen the light the preceding evening. He
D
