1828.] The Durrenstein. 267 
most persevering cross examination could extort an idea from his intense 
solidity of skull. 
He was evidently afraid of the disastrous reputation of keeping a 
ghostly house, which would have prohibited for ever the sale of the 
very considerable quantity of damaged Bavarian beer, that, mixed with 
Vienna brandy, made his staple. Not a peasant would have been guilty 
of the immorality of getting drunk under the roof of a landlord who had 
dealings with ghosts ; and the result to the Herr Michael would, as he 
pathetically observed, “ be worse than purgatory, inasmuch as masses, 
though they may take a man out of future fire, were never yet able to 
take him out of jail.” At length he acknowledged that sights of the 
kind which had perplexed us, had made his life miserable every year 
since he taken this cursed “ gasthaus ;” that an anniversary storm, 
enough to tear the skies down, had attended certain sounds and appear- 
ances, of which he dreaded to speak, and of which, indeed, he knew 
“ little more than that they generally made him incapable of examining 
at the time, or wishing to examine them at any time after, as long as he 
lived.” 
The spectre upon the ceiling had vanished into a faint gleam that 
barely shewed the outline. But no persuasion could induce the shud- 
dering landlord to presume so much as to survey even this diminished 
‘majesty of terror. He stood leaning his huge bulk on his hands, his 
hands on the table, and his eyes invincibly shut. Farther inquiry was 
useless with a boor half dead with fright ; and we unanimously voted 
his dismissal, which he accepted with great gratitude, imploring, in the 
humblest terms, that the subject of the night “ should never be men- 
tioned, as it could be mentioned only to his undoing.” 
As he was blindly turning away, piloting himself by his hands, he 
rather abrubtly touched the stranger, who started on his feet with an 
angry interjection, and gazed round for the offender. But whatever 
might be his surprise, it could not have been superior to ours. Never 
did I see such a change in the human countenance in so short a period. 
‘Ten minutes before, when he laid his head on the table, he was one of the 
handsomest men that I had seen in Germany; in the vigour of life, with 
a peculiarly bright eye, a high-coloured cheek, every feature full of 
health ; the whole physiognomy like that of a gallant and animated sol- 
dier, bronzed by campaigning. Yet, but for his sitting in the same seat, 
I could not possibly have known the man who now sent his ghastly glare 
upon us. His fine Italian eyes were hollow and dim ; his colour was 
leaden ; his cheek hollow and wrinkled; and when, in answer to the 
general inquiry, “ whether he was ill?” which might have naturally 
occurred from his drenching in the torrent, he attempted to make some 
acknowledgment, the tremor and almost idiotic difficulty of his utter- 
ance were painful to the ear. Fifty years had passed over him in these 
fifteen minutes. 
He tried to laugh off his embarrassment ; but it would not do. His 
laugh was even more painful than his speech ; and, after an effort equally 
violent and abortive to recover his ground, he sank back on his seat, and 
burst into tears. We now altogether decided on what must have been 
the cause of his illness, and entreated him to go to rest, or at least lie 
down on our cloaks before the fire. But he resisted our nursing with 
almost passionate obstinacy, contended that he never was better in his 
life, sang a popular chanson to prove his undiminished gaiety, and, after 
2M 
“ 
