HPB-SB-8-339

T i

vol. 8, p. 339

H. P. Blavatsky Scrapbooks

from Adyar archives of the International Theosophical Society

vol. 8 (September 1878 - September 1879)

 

SBT, DT

Legend

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eng • рус

< The Hierophant in India (continued from page 8-338) >

...

Black Forest Legends

Mr. L. G. Seguin has just written a most interesting book on the above subject, published by Messrs. Strahan and Co., and full of the glamour of romance. Two extracts therefrom are appended :—

THE YOUNG HUNTSMAN AND THE HAUNTED HOUSE.

It happened, however, that one day a young hunter of noble family, a stranger-guest in one of the neighbouring castles, was led, in the excitement of the chase, up to the very gate of the deserted mansion. The deer which he was pursuing rushed by him into the very ruins, as though it were taking sanctuary. The young man, by name Kurt von Stein, had heard some curious legends as connected with a ruined castle on the height, and possibly, half from curiosity and half because he was hot and tired with a day of specially poor sport, he dismounted and led his horse, tired like himself, through the brambles and bushes that had overgrown the ruined gateway, into the grass-grown courtyard.

“A curious place, to be sure!” said the young man, seating himself for a moment’s rest on a fallen mass of brickwork overlaid with soft moss, and letting his horse meantime graze at his will from the rank growth of the courtyard.

“A very curious place! Looks as if no one had been here for a hundred years. I wonder whether this can be the haunted castle my uncle was speaking about only the other night. If so,” he added, “I wish to goodness the spirit-lady would have the hospitality to welcome me to her domains, and offer me a drink of something this hot day.” And as ho took off his hunting-cap to air his heated brow, his thoughts reverted lovingly to a certain glass tankard in his uncle’s house, which, when filled with yellow Strasburg beer, was about as pleasant a sight to Kurt von Stein as the world could well offer.

After a while the idea occurred to the young man that as chance had brought him to the castle, lie might as well pay his respects to the owner of it, whether she were a phantom or not.

A turret-stair, broken and worn, was close at hand to the spot which he had chosen as a resting-place. Twilight was beginning to fall as he reached the castle; now, suddenly, darkness seemed to have come, and as he mounted the winding turret-stairs, he noticed that lights were already showing through many of the windows of what appeared to be a less ruinous part of the building than that by which he had entered.

“That is all right,” said Kurt to himself. “I was d wise to try my fortune here. A supper, or even a bed, would not come amiss to me, for I scarcely know how I shall find my way back to my uncle’s house to-night. But, at any rate, I shall get some directions, and, perhaps, if the people are not over hospitable, a guide home.” So saying, he made his way up the staircase, and knocked at a door which was at the top of it. The door opened noiselessly, as though by an unseen hand, and admitted him into a long corridor, lighted and adorned with white marble statues. From this he passed into a suite of rooms hung with tapestry, and strewn with freshly-laid rushes, with a few carved settles and chests for furniture. Still he met no one.

Next he came into a great hall, on the walls of which hung a number of antique portraits, while in the centre of the apartment was a table spread as if for supper.

“This is very curious,” said Kurt to himself where can the family be gone to? However, one comfort is, they’ve got something to eat. I think I’ll wait here and give them a chance of inviting me.”

So saying, he sat quietly down at one end of the table, which was laid for two persons. Scarcely had he clone so when the door of the room opened noiselessly, and a lady, young and beautiful, but with a somewhat sad and pale face, entered the room.

Kurt rose, and at once began to make apologies for his unwarrantable intrusion. The lady waved a white hand towards him, and bade him be seated.

“Say no more,” she said, in a sweet, sad voice. “I expected you.”

There was evidently some mistake here, thought Kurt, but as the mistake seemed to mean a good supper, he was not unwilling to fall into it. He at once took a seat at the table, and the lady took hers opposite him.

She was certainly very beautiful, he thought, as he looked again at her over the brimming wine-cup. The wine, too, was excellent; so was the whole repast—at which the lady waited upon him with her own fair hands —the only peculiarity about it being that neither bread <... continues on page 8-340 >

Editor's notes

Sources

• 

  London Spiritualist, No. 365, August 22, 1879, pp. 92-3