YÉGOF SALUTED EACH PHANTOM WITH SPARKLING EYES.
At this point Berbel's terror seemed to hold her transfixed; but soon the last volumes of gray mist disappeared out of the cavern and melted into the sky. Seeing which the crazy montagnard marched fiercely into the cave, and seating himself by the spring, with his great head between his hands, and his elbows on his knees, looked down into the boiling water with a haggard stare.
Kateline was now awake and venting her guttural moans; while Wetterhexe, more dead than alive, was furtively watching the maniac from the farthest corner of the cave.
"They have all gone up from the earth!" exclaimed Yégof, suddenly. "All, all! They have gone to reanimate the courage of my youths, and inspire them with contempt of death!"
And again lifting up his face, which seemed impressed with deep anguish, he cried, fixing his wolfish eyes on Wetterhexe:—
"Oh, thou descendant of the sterile valkyries, thou who hast nurtured within thy bosom no life-breath of warriors, nor ever filled their deep goblets at the festive board, nor regaled them with the smoking flesh of the wild boar, for what purpose art thou good? To spin shrouds for the dead. Ha! take thy distaff and spin night and day; for thousands of brave men are slumbering in the snow! ... They fought well.... Yes, they did all that men could do; but the time had not come, ... now the ravens are fighting for their carcasses!"
Then in accents of uncontrollable rage, snatching the crown off his head together with handfuls of hair—"Ah, cursed race," he exclaimed, "will you always be barring our passage? Were it not for you we had already conquered Europe; the red men would have been masters of the world.... And I have bowed my head before the leader of this race of curs.... I asked him for his daughter, instead of seizing and carrying her away as the wolf carries the lamb! ... Ah! Huldrix, Huldrix!"
Then changing this rhapsody—"Listen, listen, valkyrie!" he cried in a hoarse voice, and pointing his finger with great solemnity.
Wetterhexe listened. A great gust of wind rose up through the night, shaking the old forest-trees heavy with their load of frost. Often and often had the sorceress in the winter nights heard the soughing of the north wind and paid it no attention, but now she was overwhelmed with fear! And as she stood there all trembling, a hoarse cry was heard without; and almost at the same time the raven Hans, sweeping beneath the rock, set himself to describe great circles overhead, flapping his wings with a frightened air, and uttering melancholy cries.
Yégof became pale as death. "Vod, Vod! what has thy son Luitprandt done for thee? Why choose him rather than another?"