little hermitage had been erected, in which a figure, dressed like a hermit, and moved by some machinery in the floor, had been placed by the Baron. Saalburg entered. Scarcely had he set his foot in the little chapel, when the figure rose from its knees, nodded its head, and opened the large book which was lying before it. Aware as he was of the deception, Saalburg stepped back involuntarily. At that moment his eye rested on a folded paper placed between the leaves of the book. He opened it. “A secret correspondence” was the first idea that occurred to him. But what was his astonishment when he recognised Eleonora’s hand, and read the contents of the paper! “The idea of availing yourself of the common superstition of the Twelve Nights is excellent. You Fust, and I the Lady Venus! The terror in which the whole family will be placed will render it unnecessary for us to employ any other disguise than a white mantle. We shall take the road which tradition ascribes to the ghostly visitors. Let it be your care to provide horses. On new-year’s night at twelve I shall leave my chamber. The charge of imitating the uproar of the spirits I leave to you.
Saalburg stood for a moment to consider. The letter he saw must be allowed to reach its destination. Schirmwald, he had no doubt, would call for the paper, and he determined to continue in ambush till he should make his appearance. He pulled a withered branch from a tree, climbed up into one of the tall pines that overhung the hermitage, and effaced the traces of his footsteps behind him. It was twilight before any thing occurred to break the silence around him. At last a footfall was heard, but it sounded heavily, like that of some labourer or servant. “The devil himself,” cried a coarse, rough voice from below, “the devil himself only could find his letters in this dark hole; and after all, that rascal of a Secretary, perhaps, will never pay the postage. Prepare a horse indeed,—it is an easy matter for him to talk. He rides off, and leaves me to settle accounts behind him. But I am not such a fool as that, neither.”
Lightly and slowly Saalburg glided down the trunk of the fir-tree. The fellow had already pressed the spring on the floor, and the hermit had opened his book. At that instant Saalburg seized him by the throat, pressing him with a giant’s strength. “Silence, villain, or I will bury this dagger in your breast. You are lost, if I give you up to justice. I am the Baron Saalburg. Be candid; tell me every thing; conceal nothing, and I promise you twenty ducats.”
“O God! yes,—noble Baron,” whined out the poor wretch, “I will confess every thing,—I am the poor woodman in the village,—for God’s sake let me go,—you squeeze my breath out.”
“Not a step till I know every thing,” said Saalburg, throwing the struggling villain to the ground, and placing his dagger’s point against his breast; “speak this instant; and if you dare to betray me to the Secretary, by my soul I will strike you dead like a dog, and accommodate your wife and children with lodgings for life in the town prison.”
The man then confessed he had been employed by the Secretary to bring him the billet, and had been ordered, next night, at twelve o’clock, to have a horse saddled, and waiting behind the great oak in the park. As soon as the Secretary should come up to him with a lady veiled, and should give the word—“Give me the casket,” he was to rush out, throw a mantle over her head, and carry her into a neighbouring thicket, where he was to leave her. He was then to meet the Secretary next day in Kirchberg, across the borders, and receive his reward.
“And how came the Secretary to entrust you with this commission?” inquired Saalburg.
“Oh! because I was engaged in the former business.” “What was that?”
“About half-a-year ago, he made me purchase a uniform, and place myself, according to his directions, in the thicket near the Ellerbacher road. When Miss Eleonora came past the thicket, during her evening walk, I sallied out, and ran up to her, exclaiming, “Gold! gold!” Immediately Schirmwald, as had been
