270 The Durrenstein. [Sepr. 
Bavaria with the event, though I wish that as few particulars of this 
unhappy night may be given as possible. Would that I had died as a 
soldier, in the service of my good and gallant king, and of my loved and 
honoured country !” 
We all listened with profound deference, and promised. 
At the door, a sudden thought flashed across him, and he stopped again. 
— Gentlemen,” said he, “ there is one thing that, in my confusion, I 
had forgot. I heard among the peasantry, that the only hope of escaping 
the wrath of this fatal being was remaining sleepless, at least until day- 
break. I leave you now only because I feel myself unfit for society ; 
but I shall try to resist sleep, unless that too be a part of the infliction. 
May I make it a solemn request, perhaps a dying one, that you will 
remain together till morning, or, if you should go to your chambers, that 
you will not suffer yourselves to be overtaken by sleep.” 
He waved his hand with a graceful and sad farewell, and, led by me, 
tottered to the lowly recess, which was all the receptacle that the wirth- 
haus afforded on occasions of superfluous tenantry. Grave discussion of 
the whole story was occupying my guests when I returned. In the spirit 
of master of the board, I proposed a round of toasts to the better health 
of the Bavarian: the proposal was honoured, but we were not the mer- 
rier. At last the German, with a yawn deep as the North Sea, declared 
that he must go to bed, though fifty witches were waiting to carry him 
on their broomsticks over every hill in the empire. I combated the 
motion; but sleep was in my eyes, contradicting my eloquence ; and 
my resistance only inspirited the Italian to let out a little of his secret 
soul, and scorn alike the wonders of earth, air, and friars. The French- 
man was asleep during the last half-hour, but, on being roused by the 
bitter sneer of the Italian, declared that the witch had very handsome 
eyes, the better in his estimation for being wn peu malins ; and that 
a visit would be quite an adventure after his own heart. The hint of 
danger, in fact, made it an obligation on us to take our chance. The 
question was put and carried by a general yawn ; our last laugh was given 
to the nonsense of being kept out of our beds by the whims of an unlucky 
devil of a Bavarian, shaking in mind and body with the ague; the 
simple sight of our beds was a resistless spell; and, to judge by the 
universal snore that echoed from cell to cell in the first five minutes, my 
whole company were of the most ghost-defying description. 
But the snore began to sound more distant in my ears. I was anxious 
to keep awake, if for no other reason than to assist the invalid during 
the night. But nature said otherwise. I tossed and turned—walked 
about my chamber—broke my shins against bed-posts, chairs, and the 
crazy table—sat down to think what I should do next to rub the poppies 
from my sensorium—and, in the act of discovering an infallible con- 
trivance for keeping awake for ever, dropped back on my pillow, and 
was, as the bards of the almanacks say, instantly lulled in the feathery 
arms of Morpheus. r 
My sleep was, like that of every man who finishes his day in the jovial 
style of mine, crowded with dreams, and every dream was, of course, 
a new version of the tale of the day. The Red Woman was flying about 
me, over me, with me, frowning, howling, fixing her flame-coloured 
fangs in my throat, and drying up my circulation with her intense eyes. 
At last the struggle broke my sleep. The Red Woman herself was 
standing before me!—I never remember to have been so thoroughly 
