He several times, on account of the uncertain light, lost his track.  At length he emerged into the rocky scenery of the mountain side, and an indistinct light in the distance served to guide his steps.  He now entered between two rocks of great height; till a magnificent waterfall almost blocked up the way.  The Baron stepped cautiously forward, and after apparently passing through a cavern, the scene opened and displayed (for, to his surprise, the light was greatly increased,) a wild view, in which nature had piled rock, cavern, and mountain together, till the whole seemed lost and blended in one general chaos.  At the foot, and a short distance before him, were seen a number of persons of venerable aspect, grouped on the turf around the vast amphitheatre of rocks, and a noise as of many hammers, greeted his ears.  Attracted onwards by the now distinct glittering light, the Baron proceeded boldly to the mouth of what seemed a natural grotto.  He loudly demanded admittance, the entrance being blocked up with a large stone.  He was at first answered by a scornful laugh; indeed, as he afterwards found, he had entered by the wrong path, and observed a scene, perhaps, never displayed to mortal eyes.  The stone was at last removed, and in the interior he found the object of his search:—­

                    He, like the tenant
  Of some night haunted ruin, bore an aspect
  Of horrors, worn to habitude.

What passed will appear in the sequel, and the Baron returned just at nightfall; while his ghastly demeanour and unquiet eye betokened the nature of his visit.  It is said many a wild and unearthly peal of laughter resounded that night through the mountains.

In three months from that time the lady Agatha became his wife.  She had suddenly disappeared from her grounds a short time before, and to the amazement and wonder of all, returned with the Baron Wurtzheim, to whom she was united the same evening.  Rumour was busy upon this occasion, but the mystery which enveloped it was never dispersed.  The lady Agatha, however, seemed oppressed with a ceaseless gloom; in a short time she devoted herself entirely to seclusion, and in a year after her marriage, expired in giving birth to a son.  The demeanour of Rudolf was most strange on this occasion.  He had apparently a weight on his mind, which seemed to increase with dissipation, when he devoted his time to hunting and nightly revels, with a band of choice friends and dependents.  Time, however, which blunts the edge of the keenest misfortunes, seemed to restore him to his former self.

Years passed away.  Some time before the commencement of this legend, the Baron lost his path whilst hunting, and was benighted in the forest.  After much fatigue, he was attracted by a light amongst trees which he found to proceed from a low building.  It was in a state of extreme dilapidation, though a sort of wing appeared to have been recently tenanted.  His knocks for admittance not having been answered, he lifted up the latch and boldly entered.  Nothing greeted his sight save the almost extinguished remains of a fire.  The apartment was lone and destitute of furniture.  Having bestowed Hans as well as he could, he laid himself on the floor; while he felt an extreme chillness of spirits, which he endeavoured in vain to shake off; he was soon buried in sleep.