It was
the opinion of some that this might be the wild huntsman, famous
in German legend. Some talked of mountain-sprites, of
wood-demons, and of other supernatural beings with which the good
people of Germany have been so grievously harassed since time
immemorial. One of the poor relations ventured to suggest that it
might be some sportive evasion of the young cavalier, and that
the very gloominess of the caprice seemed to accord with so
melancholy a personage. This, however, drew on him, the
indignation of the whole company, and especially of the baron,
who looked upon him as little better than an infidel; so that he
was fain to abjure his heresy as speedily as possible and come
into the faith of the true believers.
But, whatever may have been the doubts entertained, they were
completely put to an end by the arrival next day of regular
missives confirming the intelligence of the young count's murder
and his interment in Wurtzburg cathedral.
The dismay at the castle may well be imagined. The baron shut
himself up in his chamber. The guests, who had come to rejoice
with him, could not think of abandoning him in his distress. They
wandered about the courts or collected in groups in the hall,
shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders at the troubles
of so good a man, and sat longer than ever at table, and ate and
drank more stoutly than ever, by way of keeping up their spirits.
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