 Part 3 of the End-Tale In Weird Tales, Volume 1 by E. T. A. Hoffman, translated by J. T. Billby. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Thomas Covellum. As soon as we arrived in Cape Lang, my old uncle complained that he felt the effects of the wearying journey this time more than ever. His moody silence, broken only by violent outbreaks of the worst possible ill-humour, announced the return of his attacks of gout. One day, I was suddenly called in. I found the old gentleman confined to his bed and unable to speak, suffering from a paralytic stroke. He held a letter in his hand, which he had crumbled up tightly in a spasmodic fit. I recognised the handwriting of the land steward of Arblank Sitten, but quite upset by my trouble, I did not venture to take the letter out of the old gentleman's hand. I did not doubt that his end was near, but his pulse began to beat again even before the physician arrived. The old gentleman's remarkably tough constitution resisted the mortal attack, although he was in his 70th year. That cell same day, the doctor pronounced him out of danger. We had a more severe winter than usual. This was followed by a rough and stormy spring, and hence it was more the gout, the consequence of the inclemency of the season than his previous accident, which kept him for a long time confined to his bed. During this period, he made up his mind to retire altogether from all kinds of business. He transferred his office of Deustacharius to others, and so I was cut off from all hope of ever again going to Arblank Sitten. The old gentleman would allow no one to attend him but me, and it was to me alone that he looked for all amusement and every cheerful diversion. And though in the hours when he was free from pain, his good spirits returned, and he had no lack of broad jests, even making mention of hunting exploits, so that I fully expected every minute to hear him make a butt of my heroic deed when I had killed the wolf with my winter, yet never once did he allude to our visit to Arblank Sitten. And as may well be imagined, I was very careful from natural shyness not to lead him directly up to the subject. My harassing anxiety and continual attendance upon the old gentleman had thrust Seraphina's image into the background. But as soon as his sickness evaded somewhat, my thoughts returned with more liveliness to that moment in the barons' room, which I now looked upon as a star, a bright star that had set for me at least forever. An occurrence which now happened by making me shudder with an ice-cold thrill as it sighted a visitant from the world of spirits revived all the pain I had formally felt. One evening, as I was opening the pocketbook, which I had carried whilst at Arblank Sitten, there fell out of the papers I was enfolding a dark currow wrapped about with a white ribbon. I immediately recognized it as Seraphina's hair. But on examining the ribbon more closely, I distinctly perceived the mark of a spot of blood on it. Perhaps Adelaide had skillfully contrived to secrete it about me during the moments of conscious insanity by which I had been affected during the last days of our visit. But why was the spot of blood there? It excited forebodings of something terrible in my mind and almost converted this two pastoral love token into an awful admonition, pointing to a passion which might entail the expenditure of precious blood. It was the same white ribbon that had fluttered about me in light wanton sportiveness, as it were, the first time I sat near Seraphina and which mysterious night had stamped as an emblem of mortal injury. Boys ought not to play with weapons with the dangerous properties of which they are not familiar. At last the storms of spring had ceased to bluster and summer asserted her rights, and if the cold had formally been unbearable, so now, too, was the heat when July came in. The old gentleman visibly gathered strength and, following his usual custom, went out to a garden in the suburbs. One still warm evening, as we sat in the sweet-smelling Jasmine Arbor, he was in unusually good spirits and not, as was generally the case, overflowing with sarcasm and irony, but in a gentle and almost soft and melting mood. Cousin, he began, I don't know how it is, but I feel so nice and warm and comfortable all over today, I have not felt like it for many years. I believe it is an augury that I should die soon. I exerted myself to drive these gloomy thoughts from his mind. Never mind, cousin, he said, in any case, I'm not long for this world, and so I will now discharge a debt I owe you. Do you still remember our autumn in Arblank Sipton? This question thrilled through me like a lightning flash. So, before I was able to make any reply, he continued, it was heaven's will that your entrance into that castle should be signalized by memorable circumstances, and that you should become involved against your own will in the deepest secrets of the house. The time has now come when you must learn all. We have often enough talked about things which you, cousin, rather dimly guessed at than really understood. In the alternation of the seasons, nature represents symbolically the cycle of human life. That is a trite remark, but I interpret it differently from everybody else. The news of spring fall, summer's vapors fade away, and it is the pure atmosphere of autumn, which clearly reveals the distant landscape, and then finally earthly existence is swallowed in the night of winter. I mean that the government of the power inscrutable is more plainly revealed in the clear-sightedness of old age. It is granted glimpses of the promised land, the pilgrimage to which begins with the death on earth. How clearly do I see at this moment the dark destiny of that house, to which I am knit by firmer ties than blood relationship can leave? Everything lies disclosed to the eyes of my spirit, and yet the things which I now see in the form in which I see them, the essential substance of them that is, this I cannot tell you in words, for no man's tongue is able to do so. But listen, my son, I will tell you as well as I am able, and do you think it is some remarkable story that might really happen, and lay up carefully in your soul the knowledge that the mysterious relations into which you venture to enter, not perhaps without being summoned, might have ended in your destruction? But that's all over now. The history of the Arblanc entail, which my old uncle told me, I retain so faithfully in my memory even now that I can almost repeat it in his own words. He spoke of himself in the third person. One stormy night in the autumn of 1760, the servants of Arblancsitten were startled out of the midst of their sleep by a terrific crash as if the whole of the spacious castle had tumbled into a thousand pieces. In a moment everybody was on his legs, lights were lit, the house steward, his face deadly pale with fright and terror, came up panting with his keys. But as they proceeded through the passages and halls and rooms, sweet after sweet, and found all safe, and heard in the appalling silence, nothing except the creaking rattle of the locks, which occasioned some difficulty in opening, and the ghostlike echo of their own footsteps, they began one at all to be utterly astounded. Nowhere was there the least trace of damage. The old house steward was impressed by an ominous feeling of apprehension. He went up into the great night's hall, which had a small cabinet adjoining where Fryhair Roderick von Arblanc used to sleep when engaged in making his astronomical observations. Between the door of this cabinet and that of a second was a postern leading through a narrow passage immediately into the astronomical tower. But directly Daniel, that was the house steward's name, opened this postern, the storm, blustering and howling terrifically, drove a heap of rubbish and broken pieces of stones all over him, which made him recoil in terror. And, dropping the candles, which went out with a hiss on the floor, he screamed, oh, God, oh, God, the Baron, he's miserably dashed to pieces. At the same moment, he heard sounds of lamentation proceeding from the Fryhair sleeping cabinet. And on entering it, he saw the servants gathered around their master's corpse. They had found him, fully dressed, and more magnificently than on any previous occasion, and with a calm, earnest look upon his unchanged countenance, sitting in his large and richly decorated armchair as though resting after severe study. But his rest was the rest of death. When day dawned, it was seen that the crowning turret of the tower had fallen in. The huge square stones had broken through the ceiling and floor of the observatory room. And then, carrying down in front of them a powerful beam that ran across the tower, they had dashed in with redoubled impetus the lower vaulted roof, and dragged down a portion of the castle walls and of the narrow connecting passage. Not a single step could be taken beyond the posturing threshold without risk of falling at least 80 feet into a deep chasm. The old Fryhair had foreseen the very hour of his death and had sent intelligence of it to his sons. Hence it happened that the very next day saw the arrival of Wulfgang, Fryhair von Arblank, eldest son of the deceased, and now lord of the entail. Relying confidently upon the probable truth of the old man's foreboding, he had left Vienna, which city he chanced to have reached in his travels, immediately he received the ominous letter and hastened to Arblank's sit-in as fast as he could travel. The house steward had draped the great hall in black and it had the old Fryhair laid out in the clothes in which he had been found on a magnificent state bed and this he had surrounded with tall silver candlesticks with burning wax candles. Wulfgang ascended the stairs, entered the hall and approached close to his father's corpse without speaking a word. There he stood with his arms folded on his chest, gazing with a fixed and gloomy look and with knitted brows into his father's pale countenance. He was like a statue, not a tear came from his eyes. At length, with an almost convulsive movement of the right arm towards the corpse, he murmured hoarsely, did the stars compel you to make the son whom you loved miserable? Thuring his hands behind his back and stepping a short pace backwards, the Baron raised his eyes upwards and said in a low and well-nigh broken voice, poor infatuated old man, your carnival farce with its shallow delusions is now over. Now you no doubt see that the possessions which have so niggardly dealt out to us here on earth have nothing in common with hereafter beyond the stars. What will, what power can reach over beyond the graves? The Baron was silent again for some seconds. Then he cried passionately, No, your perversity shall not rob me of a grain of my earthly happiness which you strove so hard to destroy. And therewith he took a folded paper out of his pocket and held it up between two fingers to one of the burning candles that stood close beside the corpse. The paper was caught by the flame and blazed up high. And as the reflection flickered and played upon the face of the corpse, it was as though its muscles moved and as though the old man uttered toneless words so that the servants who stood some distance off were filled with great horror and awe. The Baron calmly finished what he was doing by carefully stamping out with his foot the last fragment of paper that fell on the floor blazing. Then, casting yet another moody glance upon his father, he hurriedly left the hall. On the following day, Daniel reported to the Freyheer the damage that had been done to the tower and described at great length all that had taken place on the night when their dear dead master died. And he concluded by saying that it would be a very wise thing to have the tower repaired at once, or if a further fall were to take place, there would be some danger of the whole castle. Well, if not tumbling down at any rate suffering serious damage. Repair the tower. The Freyheer interrupted the old servant curtly whilst his eyes flashed with anger. Repair the tower? Never. Never. Don't you see, old man, he went on more calmly. Don't you see that the tower could not fall in this way without some special cause? How, if it was my father's own wish, that the place where he carried on his unhallowed astrological labor should be destroyed? How if he had himself made certain preparations by which he was enabled to bring down the turret whenever he pleased, and so occasioned the ruin of the interior of the tower? That be that as it may. And if the whole castle tumbles down, I shan't care, I shall be glad. Do you imagine I am going to dwell in this weird owl's nest? No. My wise ancestor who had the foundations of a new castle laid in the beautiful valley yonder, he has begun a work which I intend to finish. Daniel said, crestfallen, then will all your faithful old servants have to take up their bundles and go? That I am not going to be waited upon by helpless, weak-kneed old fellows like you is quite certain. But for all that, I shall turn none away. You may all enjoy the bread of charity without working for it. And am I, cried the old man, greatly hurt, am I the house steward to be forced to lead such a life of inactivity? Then the fry-hair, who had turned his back upon the old man, it was about to leave the room, wheeled suddenly round, his face perfectly ablaze with passion, strode up to the old man as he stretched out his doubled fist towards him and shouted in a thundering voice, you, you hypocritical old villain, it's you who helped my father in his unearthly practices up yonder. You lay upon his heart like a vampire. And perhaps it was you who basically took advantage of the old man's mad folly to plant in his mind those diabolical ideas which brought me to the brink of ruin. I ought, I tell you, to kick you out like a mangy curve. The old man was so terrified at these harsh, terrible words that he threw himself upon his knees beside the fry-hair. But the barren, as he spoke these last words, threw forward his right foot, perhaps quite unintentionally, as is frequent of the case in anger when the body mechanically obeys the mind and what is in the thought is imitatively realized in action, and hit the old man so hard on the chest that he rolled over with a stifled scream. Rising painfully to his feet and uttering a most singular sound, like the howling whimper of an animal wounded to death, he looked the fry-hair through and through with a look that glared with mingled rage and despair. The purse of money, which the fry-hair threw down as he went out of the room, the old man left lying on the floor where it fell. Meanwhile, all the nearest relatives of the family who lived in the neighborhood had arrived, and the old fry-hair who lived in the neighborhood was interred with much pomp in the family vault in the church at Arbrank-Sitton, and now, after the invited guests had departed, the new lord of the Gentile appeared to shake off his gloomy mood and to be prepared to duly enjoy the property that had fallen to him. Along with V-blank, the old fry-hair is just as charious, who won his full confidence in the very first interview they had, and who was at once confirmed in his office, the Baron made an exact calculation of his sources of income and considered how large a part he could devote to making improvements and how large a part to building a new castle. V-blank was of opinion that the old fry-hair could not possibly have spent all his income every year, and that there must certainly be money concealed somewhere, since he had found nothing amongst his papers, except one or two banknotes for insignificant sums, and the ready money in the iron safe was but very little more than a thousand dollars, or about one hundred fifty pounds. Who would be so likely to know anything about it as Daniel, who, in his obstinate self-will way, was perhaps only waiting to be asked about it? The Baron was now not a little concerned at the thought that Daniel, whom he had so grossly insulted, might let large sums molder somewhere sooner than discover them to him, not so much, of course, from any motives of self-interest, for what use could even the largest sum of money be to him, a childless old man whose only wish was to end his days in the castle of Arblanc-Sitton, as from a desire to take vengeance for the affront put upon him. He gave V. Blank a circumstantial account of the entire scene with Daniel, and concluded by saying that from several items of information communicated to him, he had learned that it was Daniel alone who had contrived to nourish, in the Old Friar's mind, such an inexplicable aversion to ever seeing his sons in Arblanc-Sitton. The Justiciaris declared that this information was perfectly false, since there was not a human creature on the face of the earth who would have been able to guide the Friar's thoughts in any way, far less determine them for him, and he undertook, finally, to draw from Daniel the secret, if he had one, as to the place in which they would be likely to find money concealed. His task proved far easier than he had anticipated, for no sooner did he begin, but how comes it, Daniel, that your old master has left so little ready money? Then Daniel replied, with a repulsive smile, do you mean the few trifling tallers, Her Justiciaris, which you found in the little strongbox? Oh, the rest is lying in the vault beside our gracious master's sleeping cabinet. But the best, he went on to say, whilst his smile passed over into an abominable grin, and his eyes flashed with malicious fire, but the best of all, several thousand gold pieces lies buried at the bottom of the chasm beneath the ruins. The Justiciaris at once summoned the Friar. They proceeded there, and then into the sleeping cabinet, where Daniel pushed aside the wane-skit in one of the corners, and a small lock became visible. Whilst the Friar was regarding the polished lock with covetous eyes, and making preparations to try and unlock it, with the keys of the great bunch, which he dragged with some difficulty out of his pocket, Daniel drew himself up to his full height, and looked down with almost malignant pride upon his master, who had now stooped down in order to see the lock better. Daniel's face was deadly pale, and he said, his voice trembling, If I am a dog, my Lord Friar, I have also at least a dog's fidelity. Therewith he held out a bright steel key to his master, who greedily snatched it out of his hand, and with it he easily succeeded in opening the door. They stepped into a small and low vaulted apartment, in which stood a large iron coffer, with the lid open, containing many money bags, upon which lay a strip of parchment, written in the old Friar's familiar handwriting, large and old-fashioned. One hundred and fifty thousand imperial tollers in old Frederick's door, note, imperial tollers varied in value at different times, but estimating their value at three shillings, the sum here mentioned would be equivalent to about twenty-two thousand five hundred pounds. The Frederick door was a gold coin worth five tollers, return to text. Money saved from the revenues of the estate tale of Robblinck-Siton. This sum has been set aside for the building of the castle. Further, the lord of the entail who succeeds me in the possession of this money shall upon the highest hill situated eastward from the old tower of the castle, which he will find in ruins, erect a high beacon tower for the benefit of mariners, and cause a fire to be kindled on it every night. Our blank-siton on Mickelmus Eve of the year 1760. Roderick, Friar von Aar. The Friar lifted up the bags, one after the other, and let them fall again into the coffer, delighted at the ringing clink of so much gold coin. Then he turned round abruptly to the old house steward, thanked him for the fidelity he had shown, and assured him that they were only vile, tattling, colonies which had induced him to treat him so harshly in the first instance. He should not only remain in the castle, but should also continue to discharge his duties, uncartailed in any way as house steward, and at double the wages he was then having. I owe you a large compensation. If you will take money, help yourself to one of these bags. As he concluded with these words, the Baron stood before the old man, with his eyes bent upon the ground, and pointed to the coffer. Then, approaching it again, he once more ran his eyes over the bags. The burning flush suddenly mounted into the old house steward's cheeks, and he uttered that awful howling whimper, a noise as though an animal wounded to death, according to the fry-hair's previous description of it to the Justicarius. The latter shuddered, for the words which the old man murmured between his teeth sounded like, blood for gold. Of all this, the fry-hair, absorbed in the contemplation of the treasure before him, had heard not the least. Daniel, tottered in every limb, as if shaken by an egg you fit. Approaching the fry-hair with bowed head and a humble attitude, he kissed his hand, and, drawing his handkerchief across his eyes under the pretence of wiping away his tears, said in a whining voice, Alas, my good and gracious master! What am I, a poor childless old man, to do with money? Well, the doubled wages I accept with gladness, and will continue to do my duty faithfully and zealously. The fry-hair, who had paid no particular heed to the old man's words, now let the heavy lid of the copper fall to with a bang, so that the whole room shook and cracked. And then, locking the copper and carefully withdrawing the key, he said carelessly, very well, very well, old man. But after they entered the hall, he went on talking to Daniel. But you said something about a quantity of gold pieces buried underneath the ruins of the tower? Silently the old man stepped towards the post turn, and after some difficulty unlocked it. But so soon as he threw it open, the storm drove a thick mass of snowflakes into the hall. A raven was disturbed, and flew in croaking and screaming, and dashed with its black wings against the window. But, regaining the open post turn, it disappeared downwards into the chasm. The fry-hair stepped out into the corridor, but one single glance downwards, and he started back trembling. A fearful sight. I'm giddy. He stammered as he sank, almost fainting into the Justiciaris's arms. But quickly recovering himself by an effort, he fixed a sharp look upon the old man and asked, Meanwhile the old man had been locking the post turn, and was now leaning against it with all his bodily strength, and was gasping and grunting to get the great key out of the rusty lock. This at last accomplished. He turned round to the barren, and, changing the huge key about backwards and forwards in his hands, replied with a peculiar smile. Yes, there were thousands and thousands down there. All my dear dead masters, beautiful instruments, telescopes, quadrants, lobes, dark mirrors, they all lie smashed to atoms underneath the ruins, between the stones and the big bark. But money, coined money, interrupted the barren. You spoke of gold pieces, old man. I only meant things which had cost several thousand gold pieces, he replied, and not another word could be got out of it. The barren appeared highly delighted to have all at once come into possession of all the means requisite for carrying out his favorite plan, namely that of building a new and magnificent castle. The Justiciaris indeed stated it as his opinion that according to the will of the deceased, the money could only be applied to the repair and complete finishing of the interior of the old castle, and further, in a new erection, would hardly succeed in equalling the commanding size and the severe and simple character of the old ancestral castle. The Fryhair, however, persisted in his intention and maintained that in the disposal of property respecting which nothing was stated in the deeds of the entail, the irregular will of the deceased could have no validity. He at the same time led V. Blank to understand that he should conceive it to be his duty to embellish R. Blank's sit-in as far as the climate soil and environs would permit, for it was his intention to bring home shortly as his dearly loved wife, a lady who was in every respect worthy of the greatest sacrifices. The air of mystery with which the Fryhair spoke of this alliance, which possibly had been already consummated in secret, cut short all further questions from the side of the Justiciarius. Nevertheless, he found in it, to some extent, a redeeming feature, for the Fryhair's eager grasping after riches now appeared to be due not so much to avarice, strictly speaking, as to the desire to make one dear to him forget the more beautiful country she was relinquishing for his sake. Otherwise, he could not acquit the barren of being avaricious, or, at any rate, insufferably close, fisted, seeing that, even though rolling in money and even when gloating over the old Frederick's door, he could not help bursting out with the peevish grumble. I know the old rascal has concealed from us the greatest part of his wealth, but next spring I will have the ruins of the tower turned over under my own eyes. The Fryhair had architects come and discussed with them at great length what would be the most convenient way to proceed with his castle building. He rejected one drawing after another. In none of them was the style of architecture sufficiently rich and grandiose. He now began to draw plans himself, and, in spirited by this employment, which constantly placed before his eyes a sunny picture of the happiest future, brought himself into such a genial humor that it often bordered on wild exuberance of spirits, and even communicated itself to all about him. His generosity and profuse hospitality belied all imputations of avarice, at any rate. Daniel also seemed to have now forgotten the insult that had been put upon him. Towards the Fryhair, although often followed by him with mistrustful eyes on account of the treasure buried in the chasm, his bearing was both quiet and humble. But what struck everybody as extraordinary was that the old man appeared to grow younger from day to day. Possibly this might be because he had begun to forget his grief for his old master, which had stricken him sore, and possibly also because he had not now, as he once had, to spend the cold nights in the tower without sleep, and got better food and good wine, such as he liked. But whatever the cause might be, the old gray beard seemed to be growing into a vigorous man with red cheeks and well-nourished body, who could walk firmly and laugh loudly whenever he heard it just to laugh at. The pleasant tenor of life at Arblanc-Siton was disturbed by the arrival of a man whom one would have judged to be quite in his element there. This was Wolfgang's younger brother Hubert, at the sight of whom Wolfgang had screamed out with his face as pale as a corpse's, unhappy wretch, what do you want here? Hubert threw himself into his brother's arms, but Wolfgang took him and led him away up to a retired room, where he locked himself in with him. They remained closeted several hours, at the end of which time, Hubert came down, greatly agitated, and called for his horses. The Justacharius intercepted him. Hubert tried to pass him but the Blanc inspired by the hope that he might perhaps stifle in the bud what might else end in a bitter lifelong quarrel between the brothers. We sought him to stay at least a few hours, and at the same moment, the fry-hair came down calling, Stay here, Hubert. You will think better of it. Hubert's countenance cleared up. He assumed an air of composure, and quickly pulling off his costly fur coat and throwing it to a servant behind him, he grasped the Blanc's hand and went with him into the room. Saying with a scornful smile, So the lord of the entail will tolerate my presence here, it seems. The Blanc thought that the unfortunate misunderstanding would assuredly be smoothed away now, for it was only separation and existence apart from each other that would, he conceived, be able to foster it. Hubert took up the steel tongs, which stood near the fire grate, and as he proceeded to break up a knotty piece of wood that would only squeal, not burn, and to rake the fire together better, he said to Weeblanc, You see what a good-natured fellow I am, Her Majesty Sharius, and that I am skillful in all domestic matters, but Wolfgang is full of the most extraordinary prejudices and a bit of a miser. Weeblanc did not deem it advisable to attempt to fathom further the relations between the brothers, especially as Wolfgang's face and conduct and voice plainly showed that he was shaken to the very depths of his nature by diverse violent passions. Late in the evening, Weeblanc had occasion to go up to the frayher's room in order to learn his decision about some matter or other connected with the estate tale. He found him pacing up and down the room with long strides, his arms crossed on his back, and much perturbation in his manner. On perceiving the Justus Sharius, he stood still, and then, taking him by both hands and looking him gloomily in the face, he said in a broken voice, My brother is come. I know what you are going to say. He proceeded almost before Weeblanc had opened his mouth to put a question. Unfortunately, you know nothing. You don't know that my unfortunate brother, yes, I will not call him anything worse than unfortunate, that like a spirit of evil, he crosses my path everywhere, ruining my peace of mind. It is not his fault that I have not been made unspeakably miserable. He did his best to make me so, but heaven willed otherwise. Ever since he has known of the conversion of the property into an end-tail, he has persecuted me with deadly hatred. He envies me this property, which in his hands would only be scattered like chaff. He is the wildest spendthrift I ever heard of. His load of debt exceeds, by a long way, the half of the unentailed property in Coulon that fell to him. And now, pursued by his creditors, who fail not to worry him for payment, he hurries here to me to beg for money. And you, his brother, refuse to give him any? Weeblanc was about to interrupt him, but the fry-hair, letting the blank's hands fall and taking a long step backwards, went on in a loud and vehement tone, Stop! Yes, I refuse. I neither can nor will give away a single taller of the revenues of the end-tail. But listen, and I will tell you what was the proposal which I made the insane fellow a few hours ago, and made in vain, and then passed judgment upon the feelings of duty by which I am actuated. Our unentailed possessions in Coulon are, as you are aware, considerable. The half that falls to me I am willing to renounce, but in favor of his family. For Hubert has married, in Coulon, a beautiful lady, but poor. She and the children she has borne him are starving. The estates should be put under trust, sufficient should be set aside out of the revenues to support him, and his creditors be paid by arrangement. But what does he care for a quiet life, a life free of anxiety? What does he care for wife and child? Money, ready money, and large quantities is what he will have, that he may squander it in infamous folly. Some demon has made him acquainted with the secret of the $150,000, half of which he in his madway demands, maintaining that this money is movable property and quite a part from the entailed portion. This, however, I must and will refuse him, but the feeling haunts me that he is plotting my destruction in his heart. No matter how great the efforts which V. Blank made to persuade the friar out of this suspicion against his brother, in which, of course, not being initiated into the more circumstantial details of the disagreement, he could only appeal to broad and somewhat superficial moral principles, he could not boast of the smallest success. The friar commissioned him to treat with his hostile and avaricious brother Hubert. V. Blank proceeded to do so with all the circumspection he was master of, and was not a little gratified when Hubert at length declared, Be it so then, I will accept my brother's proposals, but upon condition that he will now, since I am on the point of losing both my honor and my good name forever through the severity of my creditors, make me an advance of a thousand Frederick's door in hard cash, and further grant that in time to come, I may take up my residence, at least for a short time occasionally, in our beautiful V. Blank sitting, along with my good brother. Never, never, exclaimed the friar violently, when V. Blank laid his brother's amended counter-proposals before him. I will never consent that Hubert stay in my house even a single minute after I have brought home my wife. Go, my good friend, tell this mar piece that he shall have two thousand Frederick's door, not as an advance, but as a gift. Only bid him go, bid him go. V. Blank now learned at one and the same time that the ground of the quarrel between the two brothers must be sought for in this marriage. Hubert listened to the Justa Sharia's proudly and calmly, and when he finished speaking, replied in a hoarse and hollow tone, I will think it over, but for the present I shall stay a few days in the castle. V. Blank exerted himself to prove to the discontented Hubert that the friar, by making over his share of the unentailed property, was really doing all he possibly could do to indemnify him, and that on the whole he had no cause for complaint against his brother, although at the same time he admitted that all institutions of the nature of primogeniture, which vested such preponderant advantages in the eldest born to the prejudice of the remaining children, were in many respects hateful. Hubert tore his waistcoat open from top to bottom like a man whose breast was cramped, and he wanted to relieve it by fresh air, thrusting one hand into his open shirt-frill, and planting the other in his side, he spun round on one foot in a quick pirouette, and cried in a sharp voice, SHUT! What is hateful is born of hatred! Then bursting out into a shrill fit of laughter, he said, What condescension my lord of the entail shows in being thus willing to throw his gold pieces to the poor beggar! V. Blank saw plainly that all idea of a complete reconciliation between the brothers was quite out of the question. To the fry-hares annoyance, Hubert established himself in the rooms that had been appointed for him in one of the side wings of the castle, as if with a view to a very long stay. He was observed to hold frequent and long conversations with the house steward. Nay, the latter was sometimes even seen to accompany him when he went out wolf-hunting. Otherwise, he was very little seen, and studiously avoided meeting his brother alone, at which the latter was very glad. V. Blank felt how strained and unpleasant this state of things was, and was obliged to confess to himself that the peculiar uneasiness which marked all that Hubert both said and did was such as to destroy intentionally and effectually all the pleasure of the place. He now perfectly understood why the fry-hair had manifested so much alarm on seeing his brother. One day, as V. Blank was sitting by himself in the justice room amongst his law papers, Hubert came in with a grave and more composed manner than usual, and said in a voice that bordered upon melancholy, I will accept my brother's last proposals. If you will contrive that I have the 2000 Frederick's door today, I will leave the castle this very night. Lord Horstback, hello. With the money, asked V. Blank, you are right, replied Hubert. I know what you would say, the weight. Give it me in bills on Isaac Lazarus of Cape Blank. For to Cape Blank I am going this very night. Something is driving me away from this place. The old fellow has bewitched it with evil spirits. Do you mean your father, Herr Baron? Asked me, Blank sternly. Hubert's lips trembled. He had to cling to the chair to keep from falling, but then suddenly recovering himself, he cried, Today then, please, hair just asharious, and staggered to the door, not however without some exertion. He now sees that no deceptions are any longer of a veil, that he can do nothing against my firm will, said the frayhair whilst drawing up the bills on Isaac Lazarus in Cape Blank. A burden was lifted off his heart by the departure of his inimical brother, and for a long time he had not been in such cheerful spirits as he was at supper. Hubert had sent his excuses, and there was not one who regretted his absence. The room which V. Blank occupied was somewhat retired, and its windows looked upon the castle yard. In the night he was suddenly startled up out of his sleep, and was under the impression that he had been awakened by a distant and pitiable moan. But listen as he would, all remained still as the grave, and so he was obliged to conclude that the sound which had fallen upon his ears was the delusion of a dream. But at the same time, he was seized with such a peculiar feeling of breathless anxiety and terror that he could not stay in bed. He got up and approached the window. It was not long, however, before the castle door was opened, and a figure with a blazing torch came out of the castle and went across the courtyard. V. Blank recognized the figure as that of old Daniel, and saw him open the stable door and go in, and soon afterwards bring out a saddle horse. Now a second figure came into view out of the darkness, well wrapped in furs, and with a fox skin cap on his head. V. Blank perceived that it was Hubert, but after he had spoken excitedly with Daniel for some minutes, he returned into the castle. Daniel led back the horse into the stable and locked the door, and also that of the castle, after he had returned across the courtyard in the same way in which he crossed it before. It was evident Hubert had intended to go away on horseback, but had suddenly changed his mind, and no less evident was it that there was a dangerous understanding of some sort between Hubert and the old house steward. V. Blank looked forward to the morning with burning impatience. He would acquaint the fry-hair with the occurrences of the night. Really, it was now time to take precautionary measures against the attacks of Hubert's malice, which V. Blank was now convinced had been betrayed in his agitated behavior of the day before. Next morning, at the hour when the fry-hair was in the habit of rising, V. Blank heard people running backwards and forwards, doors opened and slammed too, and a tumultuous confusion of voices talking and shouting. When going out of his room, he met servants everywhere, who, without heeding him, ran past him with ghastly pale faces, upstairs, downstairs, in and out the rooms. At length, he ascertained that the fry-hair was missing, and that they had been looking for him for hours in vain. As he had gone to bed in the presence of his personal attendant, he must have afterwards got up and gone away somewhere in his dressing-gown and slippers, taking the large candlestick with him, for these articles were also missed. V. Blank, his mind agitated with dark forebodings, ran up to the ill-fated hall, the cabinet adjoining which Wolfgang had chosen like his father for his own bedroom. The post turn, leading to the tower, stood wide open, with a cry of horror, V. shouted, There! He lies dashed to pieces at the bottom of the ravine! And it was so. There had been a fall of snow, so that all they could distinctly make out from above was the rigid arm of the unfortunate man protruding from between the stones. Many hours passed before the workmen succeeded at great risk of life in descending by means of ladders bound together and drawing up the corpse by the aid of ropes. In the last agonies of death, the Baron had kept a tight hold upon the silver candlestick. The hand in which it was clenched was the only uninjured part of his whole body, which had been shattered in the most hideous way by rebounding on the sharp stones. Just as the corpse was drawn up and carried into the hall and laid upon the very same spot on the large table where a few weeks before old Rotterick had lain dead, Hubert burst in, his face distorted by the frenzy of despair. Quite overpowered by the fearful sight, he wailed, Brother! Oh, my poor brother! No! This I never prayed for from the demons who had entered into me. This suspicious self-exculpation made V. Blank tremble. He felt impelled to proceed against Hubert as the murderer of his brother. Hubert, however, had fallen on the floor senseless. They carried him to bed. But on taking strong restorative, he soon recovered. Then he appeared in V. Blank's room, pale and sorrow-stricken, and with his eyes half-clouded with grief. And unable to stand owing to his weakness, he slowly sank down into an easy chair, saying, I have wished for my brother's death, because my father had made over to him the best part of the property through the foolish conversion of it into an entail. He is now found a fearful death. I am now lord of the estate tale. But my heart is rent with pain. I can. I shall never be happy. I confirm you in your office. You shall be invested with the most extensive powers in respect to the management of the estate, upon which I cannot bear to live. Hubert left the room, and in two or three hours was on his way to K. Blank. It appeared that the unfortunate Wolfgang had got up in the night, probably with the intention of going into the other cabinet, where there was a library. In the stupor of sleep, he had mistaken the door, and had opened the Boston, taken a step out and plunged headlong down. But after all had been said, there was nevertheless a good deal that was strained and unlikely in this explanation. If the Baron was unable to sleep and wanted to get a book out of the library, this of itself excluded all idea of sleep, stupor. But this condition alone could have come for any mistaking of the post turn for the door of the cabinet. Then again, the former was fast locked, and required a good deal of exertion to unlock it. These improbabilities, V. Blank accordingly put before the domestics, who had gathered round him, and linked the fry-haired body-servant Francis by name, said, nay, nay, my good-haired Justiciaris, it couldn't have happened in that way. Well, how then? asked V. Blank abruptly and sharply. But Francis, a faithful, honest fellow who would have followed his master into his grave, was unwilling to speak out before the rest. He stipulated that what he had to say about the event should be confided to the Justiciaris alone in private. V. Blank now learned that the fry-hair used often to talk to Francis about the vast treasure which he believed lay buried beneath the ruins of the tower, and also that frequently at night, as if goaded by some malicious fiend, he would open the post turn, the key of which Daniel had been obliged to give him, and would gaze with longing eyes down into the chasm, where the supposed riches lay. There was now no doubt about it. On that ill-omend night, the fry-hair, after his servant had left him, must have taken one of his usual walks to the post turn, where he had been most likely suddenly seized with dizziness and had fallen over. Daniel, who also seemed much upset by the fry-hair's terrible end, thought it would be a good thing to have the dangerous post turn walled up, and this was at once done. End of Part 3 of the End Tale. Recording by Thomas Copeland. Part 4 of the End Tale. In Weird Tales Volume 1 by E. T. A. Hoffman, translated by J. T. Billby. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Thomas Copeland. Fry-hair Hubert von Arblank, who had then succeeded to the End Tale, went back to Courland without once showing himself at Arblank's sit-in again. Lienblank was invested with full powers for the absolute management of the property. The building of the new castle was not proceeded with, but on the other hand the old structure was put in as good a state of repair as possible. Several years passed before Hubert came again to Arblank's sit-in, late in the autumn, but after he had remained shut up in his room with V-blank for several days, he went back to Courland. Passing on his way through Cape Blank, he deposited his will with the government authorities there. The Fry-hair, whose character appeared to have undergone a complete revolution, spoke more than once during his stay at Arblank's sit-in the presentiments of his approaching death, and these apprehensions were really not unfounded, for he died in the very next year. His son, named like the deceased Baron Hubert, soon came over from Courland to take possession of the rich inheritance and was followed by his mother and his sister. The youth seemed to unite in his own person all the bad qualities of his ancestors. He proved himself to be proud, arrogant, impetuous, avaricious, in the very first moments after his arrival at Arblank's sit-in. He wanted to have several things which did not suit his notions of what was right and proper altered there and then. The cook, he kicked out of doors, and he attempted to thrash the coachman, in which however he did not succeed, with a big brawny fellow had the impudence not to submit to it. In fact, he was on the high road to assuming the role of a harsh and severe lord of the entail, when D. Blank interposed in his firm earnest manner, declaring most explicitly that not a single chair should be moved, that not even a cat should leave the house if she liked to stay in it until after the will had been opened. You have the presumption to tell me the lord of the entail began the barren. D. Blank however cut short the young man who was foaming with rage and said whilst he measured him with a keen searching glance, don't be in too great a hurry, Herr Baron. At all events, you have no right to exercise authority here until after the opening of your father's will. It is I, I alone, who am now master here, and I shall know how to meet violence with violent measures. Please to recollect that by virtue of my powers as executor of your father's will, as well as by virtue of the arrangements which have been made by the court, I am empowered to forbid your remaining in our black sit-in if I think fit to do so. And so if you wish to spare me this disagreeable step, I would advise you to go away quietly to K. Blank. The lawyer's earnestness and the resolute tone in which he spoke lent the proper emphasis to his words. Hence the young barren who was charging with far too sharp-pointed horns felt the weakness of his weapons against the firm bulwark, and found it convenient to cover the shame of his retreat with a burst of scornful laughter. Three months passed, and the day was come on which, in accordance with the expressed wish of the deceased, his will was to be opened at K. Blank, where it had been deposited. In the chambers there was, besides the officers of the court, the barren and V. Blank, a young man of noble appearance whom V. Blank had brought with him, and who was taken to be V. Blank's clerk, since he had a parchment deed sticking out from the breast of his buttoned-up coat. Him the barren treated as he did nearly all the rest with scornful contempt, and he demanded with noisy impetuosity that they should make haste and get done with all their tiresome, needless ceremonies as quickly as possible, and without over many words and scribblings. He couldn't for the life of him make out why any will should be wanted at all with respect to the inheritance, and especially in the case of entailed property, and no matter what provisions were made in the will, it would depend entirely upon his decision as to whether they should be observed or not. After casting a hasty and sturdy glance at the handwriting and the seal, the barren acknowledged them to be those of his death father. Upon the clerk of the court preparing to read the will aloud, the young barren, throwing his right arm carelessly over the back of his chair and leaning his left on the table whilst he drummed with his fingers on its green cover, sat staring with an air of indifference out of the window. After a short preamble, the deceased friar Hubert von Arblank declared that he had never possessed the estate tale as his lawful owner, but that he had only managed it in the name of the deceased friar Wolfgang von Arblank's only son, called Rotary, after his grandfather, and he it was to whom, according to the rights of family priority, the estate had fallen on his father's death. Amongst Hubert's papers would be found an exact account of all revenues and expenditure as well as of existing movable property, etc. The will went on to relate that Wolfgang von Arblank had during his travels made the acquaintance of Mademoiselle Julia de Saint-Val in Geneva and had fallen so deeply in love with her that he resolved never to leave her side again. She was very poor, and her family, although noble and of good repute, did not, however, rank amongst the most illustrious, for which reason Wolfgang dared not expect to receive the consent of old Rotary to a union with her, for the old friar's aim and ambition was to promote by all possible means the establishment of a powerful family. Nevertheless, he ventured to write from Paris to his father, equating him with the fact that his affections were engaged, but what he had foreseen was actually realized. The old baron declared categorically that he had himself chosen the future mistress of the entail, and therefore there could never be any mention made of any other. Wolfgang, instead of crossing the channel into England, as he was to have done, returned into Geneva under the assumed name of Bourne, and married Julia, who, after the lapse of a year, bore him a son. And this son became, on Wolfgang's death, the real lord of the entail. In explanation of the facts why Hubert, though acquainted with all this, had kept silence so long, and had represented himself as lord of the entail, various reasons were assigned, based upon agreements formally made with Wolfgang, but they seemed for the most part insufficient, and devoid of real foundation. The baron sat staring at the clerk of the court as if thunder struck. Thus the latter went on proclaiming all this bad news in a provokingly monotonous and jarring tone. When he finished, B. Blank rose, and taking the young man whom he had brought with him by the hand, said, as he bowed to the assembled company, here I have the honor to present to you, gentlemen, Freiherr Roderich von Arblank, lord of the entail of Arblank sitting. Baron Hubert looked at the youth, who had, as it were, fallen from the clouds, to deprive him of the rich inheritance, together with half the unentailed court and estates, with suppressed fury in his gleaming eyes. Then, threatening him with his double fist, he ran out of the court without uttering a word. Baron Roderich, on being challenged by the court officers, produced the documents by which he was to establish his identity as the person whom he represented himself to be. He handed in an attested extract from the register of the church where his father was married, which certified that on such and such a day, Wulfgang, born, merchant, born in K. Blank, had been united and married with the blessings of the church to Mademoiselle Julia de Saint-Bal, in the presence of certain witnesses who were named. Further, he produced his own baptismal certificate. He had been baptized in Geneva as the son of the merchant born and his wife Julia, Ney de Saint-Bal, begotten in lawful wedlock, and various letters from his father to his mother, who was long since dead, but they none of them had any other signature than W. Weeblank looked through all these papers with a cloud upon his face, and as he put them together again, he said somewhat troubled, oh well, God will help us. The very next morning, Freier Hubert von Arblank presented through an advocate whose services he had succeeded in enlisting in his cause, a statement of protest to the government authorities in K. Blank, actually calling upon them to effectuate the immediate surrender to him of the entail of Arblank sitting. It was in contestable, maintained the advocate, that the deceased Freier Hubert von Arblank had not had the power to dispose of entailed property, either by testament or in any other way. The testament in question, therefore, was nothing more than an evidential statement written down and deposited with the court to the effect that Freier W. von Arblank had bequeathed the estate tale to a son who was at that time still living, and accordingly, it had as evidence no greater weight than that of any other witness, and so could not by any possibility legitimately establish the claims of the person who had announced himself to be Freier Hubert von Arblank. Hence, it was rather the duty of this new claimant to prove by action at law his alleged rights of inheritance, which were hereby expressly disputed and denied, and so also to take proper steps to maintain his claim to the estate tale, which now, according to the laws of succession, fell to Baron Hubert von Arblank. By the father's death, the property came at once immediately into the hands of the son. There was no need for any formal declaration to be made of his entering into possession of the inheritance, since the succession could not be alienated. At any rate, the present owner of the estate was not going to be disturbed in his possession by claims which were perfectly groundless. Whatever reasons the deceased might have had for bringing forward another heir of entail were quite irrelevant, and it might be remarked that he had himself had an intrigue in Switzerland as could be proved if necessary from the papers he had left behind him, and it was quite possible that the person whom he alleged to be his brother's son was his own son, the fruit of an unlawful love for whom in a momentary fit of remorse he had wished to secure the entail. However great was the balance of probability in favor of the truth of the circumstances as stated in the will, and however revolted the judges were, particularly by the last clauses of the protest, in which the son felt no compunction at accusing his dead father of a crime, yet the views of the case there stated were, after all, the right ones, and it was only due to Wieblank's restless exertions and his explicit and solemn assurance that the proofs which were necessary to establish legitimately the identity of Freier Roderich von Arblank should be produced in a very short time, that the surrender of the estate to the young baron was deferred, and the contrivance of the administration of it in trust agreed to until after the case should be settled. Wieblank was only too well aware how difficult it would be for him to keep his promise. He had turned over all old Roderich's papers without finding the slightest trace of a letter or any kind of a statement bearing upon Wolfgang's relation to Mademoiselle de Saint-Van. He was sitting wrapped in thought in old Roderich's sleeping cabinet, every hole and corner of which he had searched, and was working at a long statement of the case that he intended dispatching to a certain notary in Geneva, who had been recommended to him as a shrewd and energetic man to request him to procure and forward certain documents which would establish the young Freier's cause on firm ground. It was midnight, the full moon shown in through the windows of the adjoining hall, the door of which stood open. Then Wieblank fancied he heard a noise as if someone coming slowly and heavily up the stairs, and also at the same time a chingling and rattling of keys. His attention was arrested. He rose to his feet and went into the hall, where he plainly made out that there was someone crossing the ante room and approaching the door of the hall where he was. Soon afterwards, the door was opened, and a man came slowly in dressed in nightclothes, his face ghastly pale and distorted. In the one hand he bore a candlestick with the candles burning, and in the other a huge bunch of keys. Wieblank at once recognized the house steward and was on the point of addressing him and inquiring what he wanted so late at night when he was arrested by an icy shiver. It was something so unearthly and ghostlike in the old man's manner and bearing as well as in his set-pallet face. He perceived that he was in the presence of a somnambulist. Crossing the hall obliquely with measured strides, the old man went straight to the walled-up posture that had formerly led to the tower. He came to a halt immediately in front of it, and uttered a wailing sound that seemed to come from the bottom of his heart, and was so awful and so loud that the whole apartment rang again, making Wieblank tremble with dread. Then, setting the candlestick down on the floor and hanging the keys on his belt, Daniel began to scratch at the wall with both hands, so that the blood soon burst out from beneath his fingernails and all the while he was moaning and groaning as if tortured by nameless agony. After placing his ear against the wall in a listening attitude, he waved his hand, as if pushing someone, stooped down and picked up the candlestick and finally stole back to the door with soft-measured footsteps. Wieblank took his own candle in his hand and cautiously followed him. They both went downstairs. The old man unlocked the great main door of the castle. Wieblank slipped cleverly through. Then they went to the stable, where old Daniel, Wieblank's perfect astonishment, placed his candlestick so skillfully that the entire interior of the building was sufficiently lighted without the least danger. Having fetched a saddle and bridle, he put them on one of the horses which he had loosed from the manger, carefully tightening the girth and taking up the stern straps. Pulling the tough-to-hair on the horse's forehead outside the front strap, he took him by the bridle and led him out of the stable, clicking with his tongue and patting his neck with one hand. On getting outside in the courtyard, he stood several seconds in the attitude of one receiving commands, which he promised by sundry nods to carry out. Then he led the horse back into the stable, unsettled him, and tied him to the manger. This done, he took his candlestick, locked the stable, and returned to the castle. Finally disappearing in his own room, the door of which he carefully bolted. The blank was deeply agitated by this scene. The presentiment of some fearful deed rose up before him like a black and fiendish specter and refused to leave him. Being so keenly alive as he was to the precarious position of his protégé, he felt that it would at least be his duty to turn what he had seen to his account. Next day, just as it was beginning to be dusk, Daniel came into the Justice Charest's room to receive some instructions relating to his department of the household. The blank took him by the arms and, forcing him into a chair, in a confidential way began, see you here, my old friend Daniel. I have long been wishing to ask you what you think of all this confused mess into which Hubert's peculiar will has tumbled us. Do you really think that the young man is Wolfgang's son, begotten in lawful marriage? The old man, leaning over the arm of his chair and avoiding V-blank's eyes, for V-blank was watching him most intently, replied doggedly, Bah, maybe he is, maybe he is not. What does it matter to me? It's all the same to me. Who's master here now? But I believe, went on V-blank, moving nearer to the old man than placing his hand on his shoulder. But I believed you possessed the old friar's full confidence, and in that case he assuredly would not conceal from you the real state of affairs with regard to his sons. He told you, I dare say, about the marriage which Wolfgang had made against his will, did he not? I don't remember to have ever heard him say anything of that sort, replied the old man, yawning with the most ill-mannered loudness. You are sleepy, old man, said V-blank. Perhaps you have had a restless night. Not that I am aware, he rejoined coldly, but I must go and order supper. Whereupon he rose heavily from his chair and rubbed his bent back, yawning again, and that still more loudly than before. Stay a little while, old man, cried V-blank, taking hold of his hand and endeavoring to force him to resume his seat. But Daniel preferred to stand in front of the study table, propping himself upon it with both hands and leaning across towards V-blank. He asked sullenly, well, what do you want? What have I to do with the will? What do I care about the quarrel over the estate? Well, well, interposed V-blank, we'll say no more about that now. Let us turn to some other topic, Daniel. You are out of humor and yawning, and all this is a sign of great weariness, and I am almost inclined to believe that it really was you last night who... Well, what did I do last night? Asked the old man without changing his position. V-blank went on, last night when I was sitting up above in your old master's sleeping cabinet next to Great Hall, you came in at the door, your face pale and rigid, and you went across to the bricked up postern and scratched at the wall with both your hands, groaning as if in very great pain. Or do you walk in your sleep, Daniel? The old man dropped back into the chair which V-blank quickly managed to place for, but not a sound escaped his lips. His face could not be seen, owing to the gathering dusk of the evening. V-blank only noticed that he took his breath short, and that his teeth were rattling together. Yes, continued V-blank after a short pause. There is one thing that is very strange about sleepwalkers. On the day after they have been in this peculiar state in which they have acted as if they were perfectly wide awake, they don't remember the least thing that they did. Daniel did not move. I have come across something like what your condition was yesterday, once before in the course of my experience, preceded V-blank. I had a friend who regularly began to wander about at night, as you do, whenever it was the full moon. Nay, he often sat down and wrote letters. But what was most extraordinary was that if I began to whisper softly in his ear, I could soon manage to make him speak. And he would answer correctly all the questions I put to it, and even things that he would most jealously have concealed when awake now fell from his lips unbitten as though he were unable to offer any resistance to the power that was exerting its influence over him. Do you take it? I really believe that if a man who's given to walking in his sleep had ever committed any crime and ordered it up as a secret ever so long, it could be extracted from him by questioning when he was in this peculiar state. Happy are they who have a clean conscience like you and me, Daniel. We may walk as much as we like in our sleep. There's no fear of anybody extorting the confession of a crime from us. But come now, Daniel, when you scratch so hideously at the bricked up buster, you won't, I dare say, to go up the astronomical tower, don't you? I suppose you want to go and experiment like old Roderick, eh? Well, next time you come, I shall ask you what you want to do. Whilst V-blank was speaking, the old man was shaken with continually increasing agitation. But now, his whole frame seemed to heave and rock convulsively past all hope of cure. And in a shrill voice, he began to utter a string of unmeaning gibberish. V-blank rang for the servants. They brought lights. But as the old man's fit did not abate, they lifted him up as though he had been a mere automaton, not possessed of the power of voluntary movement, and carried him to bed. After continuing in this frightful state for about an hour, he fell into a profound sleep, resembling a dead faint. When he awoke, he asked for wine. And after he had got what he wanted, he sent away the man who was going to sit with him and locked himself in his room, as usual. V-blank had indeed really resolved to make the attempt he spoke of to Daniel, although at the same time, he could not forget two facts. In the first place, Daniel, having now been made aware of his propensity to walk in his sleep, would probably adopt every measure of precaution to avoid him. And on the other hand, confessions made whilst in this condition would not be exactly fitted to serve as a basis for further proceedings. In spite of this, however, he repaired to the hall on the approach of midnight, hoping that Daniel, as frequently happens to those afflicted in this way, would be constrained to act involuntarily. About midnight, there arose a great noise in the courtyard. V-blank plainly heard a window broken in, then he went downstairs, and as he traversed the passages, he was met by rolling clouds of suffocating smoke, which, he soon perceived, were pouring out of the open door of the house steward's room. The steward himself was just being carried out to all appearance dead, in order to be taken and put to bed in another room. The servants related that about midnight, one of the undergrooms had been awakened by a strange hollow knocking. He thought something had befallen the old man, and was preparing to get up and go and see if he could help him, when the night watchman in the court shouted, Fire! Fire! The hairhouse steward's room is all of a bright blaze! At this outcry, several servants had once appeared on the scene, but all their efforts to burst open the room door were unavailing. Whereupon they hurried out into the court, but the resident watchman had already broken in the window, for the room was low and on the basement story, had torn down the burning curtains, and by pouring a few buckets of water on them, had at once extinguished the fire. The house steward, they found lying on the floor in the middle of the room in a swoom. In his hand, he still held the candlestick tightly clenched, the burning candles of which had caught the curtains, and so occasioned the fire. Some of the blazing rags had fallen upon the old man, burning his eyebrows, and a large portion of the hair of his head. If the watchman had not seen the fire, the old man must have been helplessly burned to death. The servants, moreover, to their no little astonishment, found the room door secured on the inside by two quite new bolts, which had been fastened on since the previous evening, for they had not been there then. V. Blank perceived that the old man had wished to make it impossible for him to get out of his room, for the blind impulse which urged him to wander in his sleep he could not resist. The old man became seriously ill. He did not speak. He took but little nourishment and lay staring before him with the reflection of death in his set eyes, just as if he were clasped in the vice-like grip of some hideous thought. V. Blank believed he would never rise from his bed again. V. Blank had done all that could be done for his client, and he could now only await the result in patience. And so he resolved to return to K. Blank. His departure was fixed for the following morning. As he was packing his papers together late at night, he happened to lay his hand upon a little sealed packet which Friar Hubert von Arblank had given him, bearing the inscription, to be read after my will has been opened, and which by some unaccountable means had hitherto escaped his notice. He was on the point of breaking the seal when the door opened, and Daniel came in with still ghost-like step. Placing upon the table a black portfolio which he carried under his arm, he sank upon his knees with a deep groan, and grasping V. Blank's hands with a convulsive clutch, he said in a voice so hollow and hoarse that it seemed to come from the bottom of the grave, I should not like to die on the scaffold. There is one above who judges. Then rising with some trouble and with many painful gasps, he left the room as he had come. V. Blank spent the whole of the night in reading what the black portfolio and Hubert's packet contained. Both agreed in all circumstantial particulars and suggested naturally what further steps were to be taken. On arriving at K. Blank, V. Blank immediately prepared to Friar Hubert von Arblank, who received him with ill mannered pride. But the remarkable result of the interview which began at noon and lasted on without interruption until late at night was that the next day, the Friar Hubert made a declaration before the court to the effect that he acknowledged the claimant to be agreeably to his father's will, the son of V. Blank, eldest son of Friar Hubert von Arblank, and begotten in lawful wedlock with Mademoiselle Julia de Saint-Val. And furthermore acknowledged him as rightful and legitimate heir to the entail. On leaving the court, he found his carriage with host horses standing before the door. He stepped in and was driven off at a rapid rate, leaving his mother and his sister behind him. They would perhaps never see him again, he wrote, along with other perplexing statements. Rotterich's astonishment at this unexpected turn, which the case had taken, was very great. He pressed V. Blank to explain to him how this wonder had been brought about, what mysterious power was at work in the matter. V. Blank, however, evaded his questions by giving him hopes of telling him all at some future time, and when he should have come into possession of the estate. For the surrender of the entail to him would not be affected immediately, since the court, not content with Hubert's declaration, required that Rotterich should also first prove his own identity to their satisfaction. V. Blank proposed to the baron that he should go and live at Arblank's sitting, adding that Hubert's mother and sister, momentarily embarrassed by his sudden departure, would prefer to go and live quietly on the ancestral property rather than stay in the dear and noisy town. The glad delight with which Rotterich welcomed the prospect of dwelling, at least for a time, under the same roof with the baroness and her daughter, betrayed the deep impression which the lovely and graceful Seraphina had made upon him. In fact, the friar made such good use of his time in Arblank's sitting, that at the end of a few weeks he had won Seraphina's love, as well as her mother's cordial approval of her marriage with him. All this was for V. Blank rather too quick work, since Rotterich's claims to be Lord of the Entail still continued to be rather doubtful. The life of Adilic happiness at the castle was interrupted by letters from Courland. Hubert had not shown himself at all at the estates, but had traveled direct to St. Petersburg, where he had taken military service and was now in the field against the Persians, with whom Russia happened to be just then waging war. This obliged the baroness and her daughter to set off immediately for their Courland estates, where everything was in confusion and disorder. Rotterich, who regarded himself in the light of an accepted son-in-law, insisted upon accompanying his beloved. And hence, since V. Blank likewise returned to K. Blank, the castle was left in its previous loneliness. The House Stewards malignant complained grew worse and worse, so that he gave up all hopes of ever getting about again, and his office was conferred upon an old chasseur, Francis by name, Bufgang's faithful servant. At last, after long waiting, V. Blank received from Switzerland information of the most favorable character. The priest who had married Rotterich was long since dead, but there was found in the church register a memorandum in his handwriting to the effect that the man of the name of Born, whom he had joined in the bonds of wedlock with Mademoiselle Julia de Saint-Val, had established completely to his satisfaction his identity as Friheur Wulfgang von R. Blank, eldest son of Friheur Rotterich von R. Blank of R. Blank City. Besides this, two witnesses of the marriage had been discovered, a merchant of Geneva and an old French captain who had moved to Lyon. To them also, Wulfgang had in confidence stated his real name, and there affidavits confirmed the priest's notice in the church register. With these memoranda in his hands, drawn up with proper legal formalities, B. Blank now succeeded in securing his client in the complete possession of his rights. And as there was now no longer any hindrance to the surrender to him of the entail, it was to be put into his hands in the ensuing autumn. Hubert had fallen in his very first engagement, thus sharing the fate of his younger brother, who had likewise been slain in battle a year before his father's death. Thus the cruel end of states fell to Baroness Seraphine of von R. Blank and made a handsome dowry for her to take to the two happy Rotterich. November had already come in when the Baroness, along with Rotterich and his betrothed, arrived at R. Blank City. The formal surrender of the estate tale to the young Baron took place, and then his marriage with Seraphine was solemnized. Many weeks passed amid a continual world of pleasure, but at length the weary guests began gradually to depart from the castle to be Blank's great satisfaction, for he had made up his mind not to take his leave of R. Blank's sentence until he had initiated the unlord of the entail in all the relations and duties connected with his new position down to the minutest particulars. Rotterich's uncle had kept an account of all revenues and disbursements with the most detailed accuracy. Hence, since Hubert had only retained a small sum annually for his own support, the surplus revenues had all gone to swell the capital left by the old fryhair, till the total now amounted to a considerable sum. Hubert had only employed the income of the entail for his own purposes during the first three years, but to cover this, he had given a mortgage on the security of his share of the Courland property. From the time when old Daniel had revealed himself to V. Blank as a sum-nambulance, V. Blank had chosen old Rotterich's bedroom for his own sitting room in order that he might the more securely gather from the old man what he afterwards voluntarily disclosed. Hence, it was in this room and in the adjoining great hall that the fryhair transacted business with V. Blank. Once, they were both sitting at the great table by the bright blazing fire. V. Blank had his pen in his hand and was noting down various totals and calculating the riches of the lord of the entail, whilst the latter, leaning his head on his hand, was blinking at the open account books and formidable-looking documents. Neither of them heard the holler roar of the sea, nor the anxious cries of the seagulls as they dashed against the window panes, flapping their wings and flying backwards and forwards, announcing the oncoming storm. Neither of them heeded the storm, which arose about midnight and was now roaring and raging with wild fury around the castle walls so that all the sounds of ill omen in the fire crates and narrow passages awoke and began to whistle and shriek in a weird unearthly way. At length, after a terrific blast, which made the whole castle shake, the hall was completely lit up by the murky glare of the full moon. And B. Blank exclaimed, awful weather. The fry-hair, quite absorbed in the consideration of the wealth which had fallen to him, replied indifferently as he turned over a page of the receivable with a satisfied smile. It is indeed very stormy. But as if clutched by the icy hand of dread, he started to his feet as the door of the hall flew open and a pale spectral figure became visible, striding in with the stamp of death upon its face. It was Daniel who, lying helpless under the power of disease, was deemed in the opinion of V. Blank as of everybody else incapable of the ability to move a single limb. But again coming under the influence of his propensity to wander in his sleep at full moon, he had it appeared been unable to resist it. The fry-hair stared at the old man without uttering a sound. And when Daniel began to scratch at the wall and moan, as though in the painful agonies of death, Roderick's heart was filled with horrible dread. With his face ashy pale and his hair standing straight on end, he leapt to his feet and strode towards the old man in a threatening attitude and cried in a loud, firm voice so that the hall rang again. Daniel! Daniel! What are you doing here at this hour? Then the old man uttered that same unearthly howling whimper like the death cry of a wounded animal which he had uttered when Wolfgang had offered to reward his fidelity with gold and he fell down on the floor. He blank summoned the servants. They raised the old man up but all attempts to restore animation proved fruitless. Then the fry-hair cried, almost beside himself, Good God! Good God! Now I remember to have heard that his sleepwalker may die on the spot if anybody calls him by his name. Oh, oh, unfortunate wretch that I am. I have killed the poor old man. I shall never more have a peaceful moment so long as I live. When the servants had carried the corpse away and the hall was again empty, V. Blank took the fry-hair who was still continuing his self-approaches by the hand and led him in impressive silence to the wall of posture and said, The man who fell down dead at your feet, Frida Rodrik, was the atrocious murderer of your father. The fry-hair fixed his staring eyes upon V. Blank as though he saw the foul fiends of hell. But V. Blank went on. The time has come now for me to reveal to you the hideous secret, which, weighing upon the conscience of this monster and birthing him with curses, compelled him to roam abroad in his sleep. The eternal power has seen fit to make the sun take vengeance upon the murderer of his father. The words which you thundered in the ears of that fearful night walker were the last words which your unhappy father spoke. V. Blank sat down in front of the fire and the fry-hair trembling and unable to utter a word took his seat beside him. V. Blank began to tell him the contents of the document which Hubert had left behind him and the seal of which he, V. Blank, was not to break until after the opening of the will. Hubert lamented, in expressions testifying to the deepest remorse, the implacable hatred against his elder brother which took root in him from the moment that old Roderick established the entail. He was deprived of all weapons, for even if he succeeded in maliciously setting the sun at variance with the father, it would serve no purpose. Since even Roderick himself had not the power to deprive his eldest son of his birthright, nor would he on principle have ever done so, no matter how his affections had been alienated from him. It was only when Vltkang formed his connection with Julia de Saint Val and Geneva that Hubert saw his way to effecting his brother's ruin. And that was the time when he came to an understanding with Daniel, to provoke the old man by villainous devices to take measures which should drive his son to despair. He was well aware of old Roderick's opinion that the only way to ensure an illustrious future for the family to all subsequent time was by means of an alliance with one of the oldest families in the country. The old man had read this alliance in the stars and any pernicious derangement of the constellation would only entail destruction upon the family he had founded. In this way it was that Vltkang's union with Julia seemed to the old man like a sinful crime committed against the ordinances of the power which had stood by him in all his worldly undertakings. And any means that might be employed for Julia's ruin he would have regarded as justified for the same reason. For Julia had he conceived ranged herself against him like some demoniacal principle. Hubert knew that his brother loved Julia passionately almost to madness in fact and that the loss of her would infallibly make him miserable or perhaps kill him. And Hubert was all the more ready to assist the old man in his plans as he had himself conceived an unlawful affection for Julia and hoped to win her for himself. It was however determined by a special dispensation of providence that all attacks even the most virulent were to be thwarted by Vltkang's Resolute-ness, nay that he should contrive to deceive his brother. The fact that his marriage was actually a solomite and that of the birth of a son were kept secret from Hubert. In Rutberg's mind also there occurred along with the presentiment of his approaching death the idea that Vltkang had really married the Julia who was so hostile to him. In the letter which commanded his son to appear at Arblank Sitten on a given day to take possession of the entail he cursed him if he did not sever his connection with her. This was the letter that Vltkang burnt beside his father's corpse. The Hubert the old man wrote saying that Vltkang had married Julia but that he would part from her. This Hubert took to be a fancy of his visionary fathers. Accordingly he was not a little dismayed when on reaching Arblank Sitten Vltkang with perfect frankness not only confirmed the old man's supposition but also went on to add that Julia had borne him a son and that he hoped in a short time to surprise her with the pleasant intelligence of his high rank and great wealth for she had hitherto taken him for born a merchant from Emblank. He intended going to Geneva himself to fetch his beloved wife but before he could carry out this plan he was overtaken by death. Hubert carefully concealed what he knew about the existence of a son born to Vltkang in lawful wedlock with Julia and so usurped the property that really belonged to his nephew. But only a few years passed before he became a prey to bitter remorse. He was reminded of his guilt in terrible wise by destiny in the hatred which grew up and developed more and more between his two sons. You are a poor starving beggar, said the elder, a boy of twelve, to the younger, but I shall be lord of Arblank Sitten when father dies and then you will have to be humble and kiss my hand when you want me to give you money to buy a new coat. The younger goaded to ungovernable fury by his brothers proud and scornful words through the knife at him which he happened to have in his hand and almost killed him. Hubert for fear of some dire misfortune sent the younger away to St. Petersburg and he served afterwards as officer under Suorov and fell fighting against the French. Hubert was prevented revealing to the world the dishonest and deceitful way in which he had acquired possession of the estate tale for the shame and disgrace which would have come upon him. But he would not rob the rightful owner of a single penny more. He caused inquiries to be set on foot in Geneva and learned that Madame Bourne had died of grief at the incomprehensible disappearance of her husband but that young Roderick Bourne was being brought up by a worthy man who had adopted him. Hubert then caused himself to be introduced under an assumed name as a relative of Bourne the merchant who had perished at sea and he forwarded at given times sufficient sums of money to give the young air of entail a good and respectable education. How he carefully treasured up the surplus revenues from the estate and how he drew up the terms of his will we already know. Respecting his brother's death Hubert spoke in strangely obscure terms but they allowed this much to be inferred that there must be some mystery about it and that he had taken part indirectly at least in some heinous crime. The contents of the black portfolio made everything clear. Along with Hubert's traitorous correspondence with Daniel was a sheet of paper written and signed by Daniel. The blank read a confession at which his very soul trembled appalled. It was at Daniel's instigation that Hubert had come to our blank sit-in and it was Daniel again who had written and told him about the $150,000 that had been found. It has been already described how Hubert was received by his brother and how deceived in all his hopes and wishes he was about to go off when he was prevented by V-Black. Daniel's heart was tortured by an insatiable thirst for vengeance which he was determined to take on the young man who had proposed to kick him out like a main joker. He it was who relentlessly and incessantly fanned the flame of passion by which Hubert's desperate heart was consumed. Whilst in the fur forest sunning wolves out in the midst of a blinding snow storm they agreed to affect his destruction. Make a way with him, murmured Hubert, looking at scans and taking aim with his rifle. Yes, make a way with him, snarled Daniel, but not in that way, not in that way. And he made the most solemn separations that he would murder the fry-hair and not a soul in the world should be the wiser. When, however, Hubert had got his money he repented of the plot. He determined to go away in order to shun all further temptation. Daniel himself saddled his oars and brought it out of the stable. But as the baron was about to mount Daniel said to him in a sharp, strained voice, I thought you would stay on the entail fry-hair Hubert, now that it is just fallen to you. For the proud lord of the entail lies dashed to pieces at the bottom of the ravine below the tower. This steward has observed that Wolfgang tormented by his thirst for gold, often used to rise in the night, go to the post turn which formerly led to the tower and stand gazing with longing eyes down into the chasm where, according to his Daniel's testimony, vast treasures lay buried. Relying upon this habit, Daniel waited near the hall door on that hill omen night. And as soon as he heard the fry-hair open the post turn leading to the tower, he entered the hall and proceeded to where the fry-hair was standing close by the brink of the chasm. On becoming aware of the presence of his villainous servant in whose eyes the gleam of murder shone, the fry-hair turned round and said with a cry of terror, Daniel, Daniel, what are you doing here at this hour? But then, Daniel shrieked wildly, down with you, you mangy cur! And with a powerful push of his foot he hurled the unhappy man over into the deep chasm. Terribly agitated by this awful deed, fry-hair Roderick found no peace in the castle where his father had been murdered. He went to his Courland estates and only visited Arblanc-Siton once a year in autumn. Francis, old Francis, who had strong suspicions as to Daniel's guilt, maintained that he often haunted the place at full moon and described the nature of the apparition much as Vblanc afterwards experienced it for himself when he exercised it. It was the disclosure of these circumstances also which stamped his father's memory with dishonor that had driven young fry-hair Hubert out into the world. This was my old great-uncle's story. Now he took my hand and whilst his eyes filled with tears, he said in a broken voice, cousin, cousin, and she too, the beautiful lady has fallen a victim to the dark destiny. The grim, mysterious power which has established itself in that old ancestral castle. Two days after we left Arblanc-Siton, the fry-hair arranged an excursion on sledges as the concluding event of the visit. He drove his wife himself but as they were going down the valley, the horses, for some unexplained reason suddenly taking fright, began to snort and kick and plunge most savagely. The old man, the old man is after us, screamed the Baroness in a shrill, terrified voice. But at the same moment the sledge was overturned with a violent jerk and the Baroness was hurled to a considerable distance. It picked her up, lifeless. She was quite dead. The fry-hair is perfectly inconsolable and has settled down into a state of passivity that will kill him. We shall never go to Arblanc-Siton again, cousin. Here my uncle paused. As I left him my heart was rent by emotion and nothing but the all-soothing hand of time could assuage the deep pain which I feared would cost me my life. Years passed. V. Blanc was resting in his grave and I had left my native country. Then I was driven northwards as far as St. Petersburg by the devastating war which was sweeping over all Germany. On my return journey, not far from K. Blanc, I was driving one dark summer night along the shore of the Baltic when I perceived in the sky before me a remarkably large bright star. Oncoming nearer I saw by the red flickering flame that what I had taken for a star must be a large fire but could not understand how it could be so high up in the air. Pustillion? What fire is that before us yonder? I asked the man who was driving me. Oh, why that's not a fire. It's the beacon tower of Arblanc-Siton. Arblanc-Siton? Arblanc-Siton. Directly the Pustillion mentioned the name all the experiences of the eventful autumn days which I had spent there recurred to my mind with lifelike reality. I saw the barren, Seraphina, and also the remarkably eccentric old ants, myself as well with my bare milk white face, my hair elegantly curled and powdered, and wearing a delicate sky blue coat. Nay, I saw myself in my lovesick folly, sighing like a furnace, and making lugubrious odes on my mistress's eyebrows. The somber melancholy mood into which these memories plunged me was relieved by the bright recollection of the Blanc's genial jokes, shooting up like flashes of colored light, and I found them now still more entertaining than they had been so long ago. Thus agitated by pain mingled with much peculiar pleasure, I reached Arblanc-Siton early in the morning and got out of the coach in front of the post house where it had stopped. I recognized the house as that of the land steward. I inquired after him. Begging or pardon, said the clerk of the post house, taking his pipe from his mouth and giving his nightcap a tilt. Begging or pardon, there is no land steward here. This is a royal government office, and the hair administrator is still asleep. On making further inquiries, I learned that Fryhair Roderick von Arblanc, the last lord of the entail, had died 16 years before without descendants, and that the entail in accordance with the terms of the original deeds had now as cheated to the state. I went up to the castle. It was a mere heap of ruins. I was informed by an old peasant who came out of the fur forest and with whom I entered into conversation that a large portion of the stones had been employed in the construction of the Beacon Tower. He also could tell the story of the ghost, which was said to have haunted the castle, and he affirmed that people often heard unearthly cries and lamentations amongst the stones, especially at full moon. Poor, short-sighted old Roderick, what a malignant destiny did you conjure up to destroy with the breath of poison in the first moments of its growth that race which you intended to plant with firm roots to last on till eternity. End of the Entail, recording by Thomas Copeland.