His howling grows less ferocious—his yells become less terrible; and now his pace is a trifle more measured,—that relaxation of a whirlwind speed gradually increasing.
’Tis done; the course is o’er—the race is run;—and the Wehr-Wolf falls in writhing agonies upon the fresh grass, whence in a few moments rises Fernand Wagner—a man once more! But as he throws a glance of horror around on the scene of his night’s dread employment, he starts back with mingled aversion and alarm; for there—with folded arms, eyes terrible to look upon, and a countenance expressing infernal triumph and bitter scorn, stood the demon.
“Fiend, what would’st thou with me?” demanded Wagner. “Are not the sufferings which I have just endured, enough to satisfy thy hatred of all human beings? are not the horrors of the past night sufficient to glut even thine insatiate heart?”
“Mortal,” said the demon, speaking in his profound and awe-inspiring tones, “didst thou take all thy miseries which at this moment afflict thy race, combine all the bitter woes, and crushing sorrows that madden the brains of men, mix up all the tears and collect all the sobs and sighs that tell of human agony, then multiply the aggregate by ten million, million times its sum, and go on multiplying by millions and millions, till thou wast tired of counting, thou would’st not form even an idea of that huge amount of human misery which could alone appease me. For on man do I visit the hate wherewith my own fall has animated me; powerless on high, where once I was so powerful, I make my kingdom of earth and hell—and in both my influence is great and is terrible!”
“Yes—yes; too great—too terrible!” exclaimed Wagner. “But why dost thou persecute me with thy presence? I did not call thee—I did not invoke thine aid.”
“No, but thou requirest it!” said the demon, with a satirical smile. “Thinkest thou to be enabled to dream away thine existence in this island, with the warm, impassioned Nisida? No, mortal—no! Already doth she pine for her own native Italian clime; and she will end by loathing thee and this land, if she continue to dwell here, and with only thee as her companion. But it is in thy power to make Nisida forget Italy—Francisco—Flora—and all the grave interests and dreadful mysteries which seem to demand her presence in the busy world;—it is in thy power to render her happy and contented in this island—to attach her to thee for the remainder of thine existence—to provide her with the means of preserving her youth and her beauty unimpaired, even as thine own—to crush forever all those pinings and longings which now carry her glances wistfully across the sea,—in a word, to bend her mind to all thy wishes—her soul to all thy purposes! Yes;—it is in thy power to do all this—and the same decision which shall place that amount of ineffable happiness within thy reach, will also redeem thee from the horrible destiny of a Wehr-Wolf—leaving thee thy youth and thy beauty, and investing thee with a power equal to that enjoyed by thy late master, Faust.”
“And doubtless on the same conditions?” said Wagner, half-ironically, and half in horror at the mere thought of surrendering his soul to Satan.
“Art thou blind to the means of promoting thy earthly happiness?” demanded the demon, fixing on Fernand a glance intended to appal and intimidate, but at which he on whom it was bent quailed not. “Hast thou not received sufficient experience of the terrific sufferings which twelve times a year thou art doomed to endure? Knowest thou not on each occasion thou destroyest human life, where mortal beings are in thy path—or that thou ravagest the fair scenes which He whose name I dare not mention has created? and art thou ignorant of the tremendous horror and loathsome obloquy which attach themselves to the name of a Wehr-Wolf? See—thou art already wearied of traveling through the various climes of the earth; thou no longer delightest in cultivating thine intellect, so marvelously adapted to receive knowledge of all kinds; and thy power to create whole mines of wealth is exercised no more. But thou would’st fix thine abode in this island forever, were Nisida to remain thy companion! Well—and if thou losest her? for assuredly a vessel will some day touch on these shores—what would’st thou do then? All lonely, desolate, forlorn, thou would’st curse the day that gave thee regenerated life—thou would’st seek death—and to thee death may not come yet for many, many years! Fernand, thou art worse than mad not to embrace my offers. Consent to become mine—mine eternally, when thy mortal breath shall leave thy body, and in the meantime I promise thee power illimitable—happiness such as no human being ever yet enjoyed——”
“No—no!” exclaimed Wagner. “Rather the destiny of a Wehr-Wolf—rather the solitude of this island for the remainder of my days—than resign all chance of salvation! And that mine immortal soul is yet safe, the very temptations thou offerest with such eloquent persuasion fully proves! Oh! Heaven, of its infinite mercy, will receive the dreadful sufferings ’tis mine to endure each month, as an atonement for that hour of weakness, madness, folly, when dazzled by the words of Faust, and overwhelmed by a weight of miseries, I accepted a regenerated existence. Yes, Heaven will forgive me yet: and therefore avaunt, fiend! avaunt!” And as he uttered these words he made the sign of the cross, and the demon fled away howling. Wagner turned aside in dismay, and sank upon the ground as if blasted by the lightning. A deep sleep fell on Fernand’s eyes, and in his dreams he thought he heard a solemn but rejoicing strain of music filling the air. That divine melody seemed to speak a language eloquent and intelligible, and to give him hope and promise of a deliverance from the dreadful destiny which his weakness and folly had entailed upon him. The music grew fainter and fainter, and at the moment when it died away altogether a heavenly and radiant being rose in the midst of a cloud, an angel, clad in white and shining garments, and with snowy wings closed, and drooping from its shoulders. Looking benignly upon the sleeping Wagner the angel said in a soft and liquid tone, “Thrice hast thou resisted the temptations of the enemy of mankind: once in thy dungeon at Florence, a second time amidst the defiles of yon mountains, and now on this spot. He will appear to thee no more, unless thou thyself summon him. Much hast thou already done in atonement for the crime that endangered thy soul when, withdrawing thy faith from Heaven, thou didst accept new life on the conditions proposed to thee by the agent of Satan; but much more must thou yet do, ere that atonement will be complete!” The form ceased to speak, and gradually became fainter and fainter, until it disappeared with its glorious halo altogether.
Then Fernand awoke, and his dream was vividly impressed upon his memory.