“‘Tis a wonderful tale,” said Vivian; “and did the unfortunate man tell you this himself?”
“Often and often. I knew Left-handed Hans well. He was ranger, as I said, to a great lord; and was quite a favourite, you see. For some reason or other he got out of favour. Some said that the Baron had found him out a-poaching; and that he used to ride his master’s horses a-night. Whether this be true or not, who can say? But, howsoever, Hans went to ruin; and instead of being a flourishing active lad, he was turned out, and went a-begging all through Saxony; and he always told this story as the real history of his misfortunes. Some say he is not as strong in his head as he used to be. However, why should we say it is not a true tale? What is that?” almost shrieked Essper.
Vivian listened, and heard distinctly the distant baying of hounds.
“‘Tis he!” said Essper; “now don’t speak, sir, don’t speak! and if the devil make me join him, as may be the case, for I am but a cock-brained thing, particularly at midnight, don’t be running after me from any foolish feeling, but take care of yourself, and don’t be chattering. To think you should come to this, my precious young master!”
“Cease your blubbering! Do you think that I am to be frightened by the idiot tales of a parcel of old women, and the lies of a gang of detected poachers? Come, sir, ride on. We are, most probably, near some huntsman’s cottage. That distant baying is the sweetest music I have heard a long while.”
“Don’t be rash, sir; don’t be rash. If you were to give me fifty crowns now, I could not remember a single line of a single prayer. Ave Maria! it always is so when I most want it. Paternoster! and whenever I have need to remember a song, sure enough I am always thinking of a prayer. ‘Unser vater, der du bist im himmel, sanctificado se el tu nombra; il tuo regno venga.’” Here Essper George was proceeding with a scrap of modern Greek, when the horsemen suddenly came upon one of those broad green vistas which we often see in forests, and which are generally cut, either for the convenience of hunting, or carting wood. It opened on the left side of the road; and at the bottom of it, though apparently at a great distance, a light was visible.
“So much for your Wild Huntsman, friend Essper! I shall be much disappointed if here are not quarters for the night. And see! the moon comes out, a good omen!”
After ten minutes’ canter over the noiseless turf, the travellers found themselves before a large and many-windowed mansion. The building formed the farthest side of a quadrangle, which you entered through an ancient and massy gate; on each side of which was a small building, of course the lodges. Essper soon found that the gate was closely fastened; and though he knocked often and loudly, it was with no effect. That the inhabitants of the mansion had not yet retired was certain, for lights were moving in the great house; and one of the lodges was not only very brilliantly illuminated, but full, as Vivian was soon convinced, of clamorous if not jovial guests.
“Now, by the soul of my unknown father!” said the enraged Essper, “I will make these saucy porters learn their duty—What ho! there; what ho! within; within!” But the only answer he received was the loud reiteration of a rude and roaring chorus, which, as it was now more distinctly and audibly enunciated, evidently for the purpose of enraging the travellers, they detected to be something to the following effect:—
Then a prayer to St. Peter, a prayer to St. Paul!
A prayer to St. Jerome, a prayer to them all!
A prayer to each one of the saintly stock,
But devotion alone, devotion to Hock!