sights, cruel and frightful adventures, which bore me, like a whirlpool, into the gulf.
“I had journeyed as far as the city of Venice. There I heard mention of a certain sorcerer, who knew how to unravel all mysteries upon earth, and as I found all my inquiries after my lost Agnes were fruitless, I formed an acquaintance with him; and he is the very same strange being, whom we just now heard crying out and lamenting over our head. On consulting him he declared that he must have some fixed abode, where he might prepare his conjurations, and that having first provided him with a floor in my own house, he would attend to my wishes. When he got possession, however, he did not keep his word; pretending that the image of Agnes appeared only dimly floating before his eyes. Moreover, I heard it currently reported at Venice that this was merely the apparition of a real sorcerer, who had flourished centuries ago, and owing to some want of foresight in his art had fallen a sudden victim; and never since been enabled to enjoy the least repose.”
“Just Heavens! that I feared,” exclaimed Rhenfried. “Margaret has this very evening read me his dreadful history aloud! Come what may, however, no time is to be lost; we must rid the house of him, at all events.” As he had said this, the old master proceeded once more to trim his lanthorn; took his
