There, there, far away, down among the thick fir forests, whitened with dense patches of snow, a cry was heard in reply—weak at first; then the sound rose and swelled in a long protracted howl, drowning the feebler efforts of the hounds: it was the she-wolf answering the wolf!
Sperver, turning round awe-stricken, his countenance pale as ashes, pointed to the mountain, and murmured low—
"Listen—there's the witch!"
And the count still crouching motionless, but with his head now raised in the attitude of attention, his neck outstretched, his eyes burning, seemed to understand the meaning of that distant voice, lost amidst the passes and peaks of the Schwartzwald, and a kind of fearful joy gleamed in his savage features.
At this moment, Sperver, unable or unwilling to restrain himself any longer, cried in a voice broken with emotion—
"Count of Nideck—what are you doing?"
The count fell back thunderstruck. We rushed into the room to his help. It was time. The third attack had commenced, and it was terrible to witness!
CHAPTER IX.
The lord of Nideck was in a dying state.