1828. ] The Durrenstein. 271 
overpowered.—I could not breathe——My pulses were dead; my limbs 
were stiffened into stone. The sight had paralyzed me as it had the un- 
fortunate colonel. The phantom stalked slowly through the chamber. 
I saw her lay her hand on the table, which returned a pale gleam. She 
approached the pillow, and leaned over me. I was looking full at her. 
She started back ; waved her hand in solemn adjuration ; and with a 
low and ominous moan walked through the stone wall. 
Whether I continued awake after this, or fell into a doze, I cannot tell 
to this day. But I still could not have stirred, from the singular dizzi- 
ness of my brain, and the feebleness of my limbs. At length a confused 
sound, and a broad burst of light completely roused me. I thought that 
the catastrophe was come, whether it was to be insanity or extinction ; 
and bracing up my lost fortitude, determined, if I must perish, to leave 
behind no ground for suspicion that I had perished like a craven. On 
throwing open my shutters, I was rejoiced to find that the glare was from 
the sun, then not far from his “ meridian tour.” The sounds were still 
to be accounted for, and they grew more unaccountable every instant, a _ 
chaos of exclamations, rage, imprecations, and laughter.—I heard tables 
rolled about, chairs dashed against the wall, the old windows crashing in 
all quarters. I was beginning to doubt whether the witch’s vengeance 
had not already fallen on the sleepers, or whether the frenzy was my 
own. I at length opened my door—the passage was full of broken fur- 
niture, in the midst of which stood the Italian in violent fits of laughter. 
The German was forcing his heavy frame across a bar that held one- 
half of his door fast, the other half he had contrived to tear down. 
The Frenchman was still barred in his dungeon, which he was belabour- 
ing on all sides with a poker; and venting his fury in screams, roars, 
and imprecations, on the hand that had thus encroached on his natural 
liberty. 
The Italian’s laughter was contagious, and I joined him by the strength 
of sympathy, to the increased displeasure, as I was sorry to see, of the 
honest German, who grumbled something about “a couple of fools.” 
But as I appeared to pay more attention to the remark than under the 
circumstances it perhaps deserved, my bulky friend recovered his temper, 
and with the face of a Diogenes, in jest, asked me “ What o'clock it was?” 
I felt for my repeater—It was gone.“ I must have left it in my 
chamber.”—It was not there. My repeater was not the only absentee.— 
My purse, my pistols, my valise, my boots, my whole wardrobe, were 
gone along with it. 
Every man of the party was in the same condition. The accident 
of sleeping in our clothes alone prevented us from being stark naked. I 
roared for the landlord. He was “ deaf or dead,” no answer came. I 
darted down stairs, every door was bolted and barred as firmly as if it 
were midnight. I thought of my invalid—he too was “ deaf or dead” 
when I knocked. On second thoughts I kicked the door open.—The 
bird was flown.—The Red Woman had robbed us all.—There was not a 
florin, a brooch, a ring, a snuff-box, or a second shirt in our whole coterie. 
—The spoliation had been managed with matchless dexterity—We might 
be thankful that it had pleased the Red Woman to let us keep our skins. 
To make the dénouement more palatable, the story spread over the 
neighbourhood with a rapidity worthy of the Red Woman herself, and 
while we were considering how we should exist for the day, crowds came 
pouring about the house, and honouring each of us that appeared at the 
