“Donner et blitzen,” exclaimed the Baron, using the first oath that came uppermost, “but this exceeds belief.”  The boar no sooner perceived him than he turned upon him with the utmost fury.  The Baron hastily dismounted under the aged tree, though he was stiff and fatigued, for Hans was now utterly incapable of exertion.  His sword quickly glanced in the moonshine—­“Time was” said he, “when this had been the very pastime I desired.”  The murderous animal attacked him with such impetuosity that his well-tried skill failed him, and he was the next moment thrown under its feet.  The struggle now became desperate, for the animal had no common foe to contend with.  Before it could wound him with its tusks, which seemed of unusual size, it required not an instant’s thought in Rudolf to draw his dagger from his belt, and the next instant it was buried to its hilt in the throat of his adversary.  At the same moment the tusks of the boar entered his side.  Rudolf breathed a few words of an almost forgotten prayer, when the animal, uttering a dreadful yell, gave a convulsive spring into the air, and fell lifeless, half smothering the Baron with its gore.

Life was now fast ebbing from the side of Rudolf, when he was aroused by the sound of a voice, whose tones even at this dreadful moment thrilled through his soul with horror.  Enveloped in a thick fog which had been gradually spreading around the scene of the combat, he could discern the fiend Heidelberger and his charmed circle; with an air of triumph they chanted the following lines:—­

  Mortal vain, thy course is run,
  Thou hast seen thy setting sun—­
  Told I not true when I saw thee last,
  That ’ere the circling year had passed,
  Under the greenwood thou should’st be dying,
  On the bloody greensward lying!

  Deceived once, I tell thee never
  Shall my victim from me sever—­
  Thou hast dared to brave our hate,
  Rashly run upon thy fate! 
  Thou art on the greensward dying,
  Underneath the greenwood lying!

The hounds bayed.  The moon entered a dark cloud; and, when it emerged, its pale beams fell upon the green amphitheatre and the aged tree; but there was no one under its shade.

The following tradition is still related amongst the surrounding peasantry:—­The Baron Rudolf, it is said, was enticed to sign over the bodies and souls of his future offspring to the fiend, Heidelberger, on condition that the latter would enable him to gain the person and possessions of the Lady Agatha.  The contract, however, was obliged to be renewed at the birth of each child.  Should he violate this convocation (which he signed with his own blood,) he granted similar power over himself; and the legend goes on to relate, that the whole of the members of the charmed circle were persons similarly enticed, who were doomed to a sort of perpetual labour, being compelled to chisel out their coffins in stone, which as soon as finished, were broken in pieces, when they were obliged to begin afresh.