“Have mercy on me,” said the stranger.  “What do you want?  I am not rich; but take all I have.”

“What do you do here?” inquired twenty voices.  “Come, tell us that—­what do you do here, and who are you?”

“A stranger, quite a stranger to these parts.”

“Oh, yes! he’s a stranger; but that’s all the worse for him—­he’s a vampyre—­there’s no doubt about that.”

“Good God,” said the man, “I am a living and breathing man like yourselves.  I have done no wrong, and injured no man—­be merciful unto me; I intend no harm.”

“Of course not; send him to the fire—­take him back to the ruins—­to the fire.”

“Ay, and run a stake through his body, and then he’s safe for life.  I am sure he has something to do with the vampyre; and who knows, if he ain’t a vampyre, how soon he may become one?”

“Ah! that’s very true; bring him back to the fire, and we’ll try the effects of the fire upon his constitution.”

“I tell you what, neighbour, it’s my opinion, that as one fool makes many, so one vampyre makes many.”

“So it does, so it does; there’s much truth and reason in that neighbour; I am decidedly of that opinion, too.”

“Come along then,” cried the mob, cuffing and pulling the unfortunate stranger with them.

“Mercy, mercy!”

But it was useless to call for mercy to men whose superstitious feelings urged them on; far when the demon of superstition is active, no matter what form it may take, it always results in cruelty and wickedness to all.

Various were the shouts and menaces of the mob, and the stranger saw no hope of life unless he could escape from the hands of the people who surrounded him.

They had now nearly reached the ruins, and the stranger, who was certainly a somewhat odd and remarkable looking man, and who appeared in their eyes the very impersonation of their notions of a vampyre, was thrust from one to the other, kicked by one, and then cuffed by the other, as if he was doomed to run the gauntlet.

“Down with the vampyre!” said the mob.

“I am no vampyre,” said the stranger; “I am new to these parts, and I pray you have mercy upon me.  I have done you no wrong.  Hear me,—­I know nothing of these people of whom you speak.”

“That won’t do; you’ve come here to see what you can do, I dare say; and, though you may have been hurt by the vampyre, and may be only your misfortune, and not your fault, yet the mischief is as great as ever it was or can be, you become, in spite of yourself, a vampyre, and do the same injury to others that has been done to you—­there’s no help for you.”

“No help,—­we can’t help it,” shouted the mob; “he must die,—­throw him on the pile.”

“Put a stake through him first, though,” exclaimed the humane female; “put a stake through him, and then he’s safe.”

This horrible advice had an electric effect on the stranger, who jumped up, and eluded the grasp of several hands that were stretched forth to seize him.