“Then your house is haunted by the spirits from another world?” asked he.
“It is,” faltered the landlord.
“Then God and the Blessed Virgin be merciful to me. I will sleep there; but make me a fire, and warm my bed; for I am cold.”
The landlord did as he was ordered.
When the traveller had finished supper, he bade good night to all at table, and went up to the red chamber. The landlord and his wife trembled, and began to pray.
The stranger having reached his room began to look about him.
It was a large flame-coloured chamber, with great shining stains upon the walls, that might well have been taken for the marks of fresh-spilt blood. At the further end there stood a four-post bed, surrounded by heavy curtains. The rest of the room was empty; and the mournful whistling of the wind came down the chimney and the corridors, and sounded like the cries of souls beseeching prayers.
The traveller, kneeling down, prayed silently to God, then fearlessly got into bed, and soon slept soundly.
But, lo, at the very moment when the hour of midnight sounded from a distant church-tower, he suddenly awoke, heard the curtain-rings sliding on their iron poles, and beheld them open at his right hand.
He was going to get out of bed; but his feet striking against something cold, he recoiled in terror.