The Man-Wolf and Other Tales | Page 4

for the count's complaint is periodical; it comes
back every year, on the same day, at the same hour; his mouth runs
over with foam, his eyes stand out white and staring, like great

billiard-balls; he shakes from head to foot, and he gnashes with his
teeth."
"Perhaps this man has had serious troubles to go through?"
"No, he has not. If his daughter would but consent to be married he
would be the happiest man alive. He is rich and powerful and full of
honours. He possesses everything that the rest of the world is coveting.
Unfortunately his daughter persists in refusing every offer of marriage.
She consecrates her life to God, and it harasses him to think that the
ancient house of Nideck will become extinct."
"How did his illness come on?" I asked.
"Suddenly, ten years ago," was the reply.
All at once the honest fellow seemed to be recollecting himself. He
took from his pocket a short pipe, filled it, and having lighted it--
"One evening," said he, "I was sitting alone with the count in the
armoury of the castle. It was about Christmas time. We had been
hunting wild boars the whole day in the valleys of the Rhéthal, and had
returned at night bringing home with us two of our boar-hounds ripped
open from head to tail. It was just as cold as it is to-night, with snow
and frost. The count was pacing up and down the room with his chin
upon his breast and his hands crossed behind him, like a man in
profound thought. From time to time he stopped to watch the gathering
snow on the high windows, and I was warming myself in the chimney
corner, bewailing my dead hounds, and bestowing maledictions on all
the wild boars that infest the Schwartzwald. Everybody at Nideck had
been asleep a couple of hours, and not a sound could be heard but the
tread and the clank of the count's heavy spurred boots upon the flags. I
remember well that a crow, no doubt driven by a gust of wind, came
flapping its wings against the window-panes, uttering a discordant
shriek, and how the sheets of snow fell from the windows, and the
windows suddenly changed from white to black--"
"But what has all this to do with your master's illness?" I interrupted.

"Let me go on--you will soon see. At that cry the count suddenly
gathered himself together with a shuddering movement, his eyes
became fixed with a glassy stare, his cheeks were bloodless, and he
bent his head forward just like a hunter catching the sound of his
approaching game. I went on warming myself, and I thought, 'Won't he
soon go to bed now?' for, to tell you the truth, I was overcome with
fatigue. All these details, Fritz, are still present in my memory.
Scarcely had the bird of ill omen croaked its unearthly cry when the old
clock struck eleven. At that moment the count turns on his heel--he
listens, his lips tremble, I can see him staggering like a drunken man.
He stretches out his hands, his jaws are tightly clenched, his eyes
staring and white. I cried, 'My lord, what is the matter?' but he began to
laugh discordantly like a madman, stumbled, and fell upon the stone
floor, face downwards. I called for help; servants came round. Sébalt
took the count by the shoulders; we removed him to a bed near the
window; but just as I was loosening the count's neckerchief--for I was
afraid it was apoplexy--the countess came and flung herself upon the
body of her father, uttering such heartrending cries that the very
remembrance of them makes me shudder."
Here Gideon took his pipe from his lips, knocked the ashes out upon
the pommel of his saddle, and pursued his tale in a saddened voice.
"From that day, Fritz, none but evil days have come upon Nideck, and
better times seem to be far off. Every year at the same day and hour the
count has shuddering fits. The malady lasts from a week to a fortnight,
during which he howls and yells so frightfully that it makes a man's
blood run cold to hear him. Then he slowly recovers his usual health.
He is still pale and weak, and moves trembling from one chair to
another, starting at the least noise or movement, and fearful of his own
shadow. The young countess, the sweetest creature in the world, never
leaves his side; but he cannot endure her while the fit is upon him. He
roars at her, 'Go, leave me this moment! I have enough to endure
without seeing you hanging about me!' It is a horrible sight. I am
always close at his heels in the chase, I who