The S&rton of Cologne. 403 



from you what is of no use to yourself, while a single diamond will 

 make a poor family so happy. It is not for myself Oh no ! it is for 

 my wife and children." 



He thought the dead looked more kindly at him as he spoke thus, 

 and certain y the livid shadow had passed away from her face. Without 

 more delay, he raised the cold hand to draw the rings from its finger ; 

 but what was his horror when the dead returned his grasp ! his hand 

 was clutched, aye firmly clutched, though that rigid face and form lay 

 there as fixed and motionless as ever. With a cry of horror he burst 

 away, not retaining so much presence of mind as to think of the light, 

 which he left burning by the coffin. This, however, was of little conse- 

 quence ; fear can find its way in the dark, and he rushed through the 

 vaulted passage, up the steps, through the choir, and would have found 

 his way out, had he not, in his reckless hurry, forgotten the stone, called 

 the Devil's Stone, which lies in the middle of the church, and which, 

 according to the legend, was cast there by the Devil. Thus much is 

 certain, it has fallen from the arch, and they still show a hole above, 

 through which it is said to have been hurled. 



Against this stone the unlucky sexton stumbled, just as the turret- 

 clock struck twelve, and immediately he fell to the earth in a deathlike 

 swoon. The cold, however, soon brought him to himself, and on 

 recovering his senses he again fled, winged by terror, and fully con- 

 vinced that he had no hope of escaping the vengeance of the dead, 

 except by the confession of his crime, and gaining the forgiveness of her 

 family. With this view he hurried across the market-place to the 

 Burgomaster's house where he had to knock long before he could attract 

 any notice. The whole household lay in a profound sleep, with the 

 exception of the unhappy Adolph, who was now sitting alone on the 

 same sofa where he had so often sat with his Adelaide. Her picture 

 hung on the wall opposite to him, though it might rather be said to 

 feed his grief than to afford him any consolation. And yet, as most 

 would do under such circumstances, he dwelt upon it the more intently 

 even from the pain it gave him, and it was not 'till the sexton had 

 knocked repeatedly that he awoke from his melancholy dreams. Roused 

 at last, he opened the window and inquired who it was that disturbed 

 him at such an unseasonable hour ? "It is only I, Mr. Burgomaster," 

 was the answer " And who are you ?" again asked Adolph. " Bolt, 

 the sexton of St. Peter's, Mr. Burgomaster ; I have a thing of the 

 utmost importance to discover to you." Naturally associating the idea 

 of Adelaide with the sexton of the church where she was buried, Adolph, 

 was immediately anxious to know something more of the matter, and, 

 taking up a wax-light, he hastened down stairs, and himself opened the 

 door to Bolt. 



" What have you to say to me ?" he exclaimed. " Not here, Mr. 

 Burgomaster/' replied the anxious sexton ; " not here ; we may be 

 overheard." 



Adolph, though wondering at this affectation of mystery, motioned 

 him in, and closed the door ; when Bolt, throwing himself at his feet, 

 confessed all that had happened. The anger of Adolph was mixed with 

 compassion as he listened to the strange recital ; nor could he refuse to 

 Bolt the absolution which the poor fellow deemed so essential to his 

 future security from the vengeance of the dead. At the same time, he 

 cautioned him to maintain a profound silence on the subject towards 



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