Nov. io, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
737 
A Night of Terror. 
[This story is partly translated, partly imi¬ 
tated, from the French. The French author, I 
suppose, was indebted to some German original. 
It is no great matter, so the reader likes it. Let 
us therefore, without further preface, begin.] 
I. 
You will recollect that, three years ago, we 
had a dreadful winter throughout Europe. It 
was severe in those quarters where the climate 
is usually genial; in the north it was absolutely 
dreadful. My sister and I were on a visit to 
our old friend, the Princess N-, at her 
Lithuanian castle. The thing was arranged that 
Adelaide was to be married to the Princess’s 
son, Sobieski, who was daily expected from 
Spain. I suppose my sister looked forward to 
the arrival with more impatience than the rest 
of the party; and certainly its male portion were 
far more interested in hunting the wolf all the 
morning through the snows, and drinking down 
the fatigues of the chase in the evening over 
the fire, than in any thing connected with the 
tender passion. 
The wished for morning arrived at last. 
Sobieski appeared in the castle of his ancestors 
amid the acclamations of an admiring peasantry, 
to be kissed by his mother, shaken hands with 
by his friends, and looked at, I suppose, by his 
betrothed. Foreign travel had improved him, 
and a single year had sufficed to turn the hand¬ 
some stripling into a fine and noble-looking 
young man. The Princess was happy, Adelaide 
was happy, Sobieski was happy, we all were 
happy: but the happiness was destined to be of 
short duration: for we had hardly risen from 
breakfast when a courier arrived, bringing in the 
melancholy information that my father had been 
suddenly taken ill in Bohemia, and that our at¬ 
tendance was instantly required, as his life was 
despaired of. It was of course necessary that 
we should start on the instant; no time could 
be lost, and our arrangements for departure 
were made with the utmost rapidity. Sobieski 
wished to.have gone with 11s; but how could he 
leave his mother, whom he had only s.een for 
two or three hours after a year's absence? Be¬ 
sides, why expose him to the trouble and incon¬ 
venience of the journey? If, as we hoped, we 
found the alarm exaggerated, it would be easy 
to send for him, or to return; if the event were 
what our fears suggested, it was arranged that 
my sister’s future home was to be that of the 
Princess. Adelaide and Sobieski had a long 
private interview before we parted. What they 
raid 1 do not know; but it would not be hard 
to guess at what was the tenor of their con¬ 
versation. With much reluctance he gave his 
consent to remain behind; but. farewell is a word 
that has been, and must be: it was spoken at 
last, and we set off in our- traveling carriage 
about six in the morning through the snowy 
roads of Lithuania leading through the great 
forest. 
We got over the short day without any ad¬ 
ventures different from what might be expected. 
Our carriage sometimes stuck in the snow, 
sometimes narrowly escaped being upset by the 
stump of a tree. Relays on the road were few, 
and the people at the posthouses seemed half 
frozen, and afraid to open their mouths. We 
were tolerably independent of them for supplies, 
as we had been sufficiently stored before we 
started "on our route. We left the last post- 
house about six in the evening, with a pair of 
fine, strong, young horses, fit to contend with 
the night difficulties of the forest road. Those 
difficulties did not appear to be in any degree 
remarkably formidable. The full moon, just 
risen, cast a bright light all around, and a strong 
[Tost having set in, the path was hard and prac¬ 
ticable. Our driver; an old retainer of the 
Princess, knew the forest well: for forty years, 
as chasseur or courier, postillion or coachman, 
he had traversed it at all hours of the day and 
night, and was as well acquainted with every 
“dingle and bosky bourne of the wild wood” as 
with his own stables. I forgot to say that, be¬ 
sides. Adelaide and myself, her favorite French 
maid occupied the interior of the voiture. Hein¬ 
rich smoked, whistled, and cracked his whip in 
solitary dignity without. There being nothing 
in the scenery or its associations to captivate the 
Parisian soul of Louise, who had done due 
justice to the contents of our basket while we 
changed horses, she speedily dropped into a 
profound slumber, to dream, I suppose, of the 
glories of the Palais Royal, and to transport 
herself from the woods and'snows of Lithuania 
to the parterre of some theatre on the Boule¬ 
vards. She soon gave 11s audible information 
that she was far away in the land of dreams, 
and that, if her slumbers were not melancholy, 
they were at least musical. 
Let it not be imagined that my more delicate 
companion or myself permitted Louise to en¬ 
joy our basket-stored repast without co-opera¬ 
tion. Our spirits were severely depressed; the 
dreaded death of a beloved father filled 11s both 
with sorrow and apprehension, and Adelaide in 
parting with Sobieski had her peculiar sources 
of grief. But it is a sad truth, that all the most 
sentimental emotions of the mind give place 
when the most unsentimental organ of the body 
makes its demand upon our attention; and the 
bracing air of the forest had largely contributed 
to the sharpening of the appetite. The sub¬ 
stantial dainties of the Princess, aided by some 
generous hock, somewhat assisted in -my case 
by a fair proportion of brandy, disposed us also 
to slumber, and Adelaide fell asleep on my 
shoulder. Her sleeping thoughts reverted in all 
probability to a certain Northern castle frown¬ 
ing over the flood, garnished with tower and 
turret, buttress and bulwark, fosse and rampart, 
draw-bridge and portcullis, and every other ad¬ 
junct of feudal war; but in which was also the 
picture-studded corridor, the gay salon, and, 
above all, the soft boudoir, where sounds more 
fitted for the ladies’ ear than the clashing of 
arms were uttered; round which were formed 
trellised gardens, where bouquets such as the 
North affords were culled, and where sauntering 
walks by morning light or moon-beam made life 
forgotten; or spreading parks and chases, where 
some rode together who thought of other joys 
than those which the sylvan sports afforded. 
For my part, my mind wandered to the possible 
change of my mode of life and position in so¬ 
ciety. I loved my father with an affection which 
few sons feel: I admired the lilsfre of his mili¬ 
tary career; our house had been honored by the 
fame he had won and the high repute he en¬ 
joyed; and I looked back with mingled love and 
reverence on the uniform kindness which I had 
experienced at his hands;—but, I confess, I 
could not keep myself from thinking what I should 
do with the family estates when they came into 
my possession, of the mode in which I was to 
regulate my conduct, of the figure I was to cut 
at court, of the way I was to spend the next 
year—of—of—of something else that it is 
now not necessary to speak about. In vain I re¬ 
proached myself with thinking of anything but 
the impending death of a dear and honored 
father. As I dropped into drowsy half-waking, 
half-sleeping fits of dreaminess, other visions 
would occur, and it was only when I roused 
myself to look out of the voiture to see how 
we got on that a sensation of sorrow would take 
possession of my mind. On my shoulder still 
slept Adelaide, on the other side snored Louise; 
outside smoked Heinrich, thinking, I take it for 
granted, of nothing but his horses, and these he 
drove steadily along. 
On a sudden, however, it seemed as if they 
afforded him more than ordinary trouble. I was 
awakened from one of my noddings by hearing 
him devoting them to the infernal gods, in all 
the mingled dialects of Poland. Russia and Ger¬ 
many—and that for a crime which seldom 
awakens the indignation of a traveler in these 
regions. In spite of all his exertions, they had 
burst into a furious gallop. He cursed, and 
swore, and pulled, and tugged, but in vain. With 
alarmed eye and erected ear, the eager horses 
disregarded the utmost effort of curb and bridle, 
and dragged us forward with a velocity I should 
have thought beyond their powers. As there 
was no danger of accident. I was rather amused 
by the unexpected vigor of our steeds, and the 
indignation of the usually phlegmatic Heinrich 
at their apostacy from the regulated pace of the 
road. All on a sudden, however, our driver 
ceased to swear, and, uttering a hasty ejacula, 
tion, something half-way between a prayer and 
a curse, exclaimed: 
“The beasts are right—right, by a thousand 
devils right! 1 should have guessed it long ago.” 
And so saying, he surrendered to them the 
reins, no longer endeavoring to control their 
rapidity. I asked him what he meant. Turning 
Cautiously round, and whispering so as not to 
disturb my sister, he breathed rather than spoke 
into my ear, 
“They are coming.” 
“Who—who?” said I; “who are coming? 
There is not a human being in sight.” 
“I did not say there was,” replied Heinrich; 
“and they are scarce in sight. But don’t you 
hear them?” 
“I. hear nothing,” said I, “but the whistling of 
the wind and the crushing of our own carriage 
through the snow.” 
“Hark!” interrupted Heinrich, dropping his 
pipe: “they are coming, by-” But he sup¬ 
pressed the oath, and crossed himself instead. 
“Ay. there they are; I see them plain enough 
now.” 
“The last glass of brandy is in your head, 
Heinrich. What do you hear? What do you 
see? Who are they?” 
Profoundly inclining his head, he whispered 
with a thrilling emphasis: 
“The wolves!” 
II. 
I removed Adelaide from my shoulder as 
gently as I could, so as not to awaken her, and, 
standing up in the voiture, looked in the direc¬ 
tion pointed out by Heinrich. I looked, how¬ 
ever, for awhile in vain. I saw a dark mass at 
a distance in the snow, but, as the country was 
patched in all directions with timber, persisted 
as firmly as ever did Bonaparte at Waterloo, 
that it was only trees. In about ten minutes, 
however. I was undeceived as completely as was 
the fated emperor, and by the same means. The 
dark mass was unquestionably in motion; and 
after I had ascertained that fact, my eye 
sharpened by fear and anxiety, could perceive 
that the motion was not only rapid, but acceler¬ 
ating: The sound, too, which in the distance I 
had taken to be the whistling of the wind, came 
more distinctly upon the breeze, and I recog¬ 
nized the dismal howling of the wolf rushing 
closer and closer every moment. The terrified 
horses, whose instinct had discovered to them 
the enemy long before his approach could be 
detected by any human organ, as if they were 
aware of their impending fate, galloped on with 
more desperate energy than ever, and Heinrich 
aided their exertions by all the skill of which he 
was master. 
They came nearer and nearer. We could hear 
not only their dreadful howls, issuing from a 
hundred ravenous throats, but the tramp of their 
accursed paws pattering over the snow. I had 
no arms but a blunderbuss, a fowling-piece, and 
a brace of pistols: Heinrich had a long pistol. 
These arms, at best but inadequate against the 
number of our assailants, were rendered com¬ 
paratively useless by the discovery we made at 
the very moment, that We had omitted to bring 
with 11s more powder and ball than was barely 
sufficient for another charge in addition to that 
which they already contained. 
“What is to be done, Heinrich?” I asked in a 
whisper. 
“There is no use in whispering now.” said the 
old chasseur—“they will be upon us in less than 
five minutes, and it would be better to wake Miss 
Adelaide and her woman, to inform them of our 
danger. Poor things! it would be terrible if 
they were taken out of the world, as we are 
very likely to be, without some notice!'' 
I acquiesced in the propriety of the advice, 
and roused Adelaide. I was about to inform 
her of the danger, but she had been lately- 
dwelling for too long a time among huntsmen 
to render it necessary I should speak. 
“Gracious heavens!” she exclaimed, starting 
up. “it is the howl of the wolf! Oh, Herman— 
Herman! what will become of 11s? I see them! 
— I see them!—they are gaining upon us. We 
Continued on page 751. 
