"You are wrong, Sperver! I am of the same opinion as the Count: 'no bloodshed.' Reconsider, and discharge your piece against the first wild boar you happen upon."
These words seemed to have some effect upon the old huntsman; he dropped his chin on his breast, and his face assumed a thoughtful expression.
By this time, we were climbing the wooded slopes which separate the squalid hamlet of Tiefenbach from the Castle of Nideck. Night had overtaken us, and as it often happens after a clear, cold day in winter, the snow was beginning to fall again, and large flakes fell and melted on our horses' manes. The animals whinnied and increased their pace, cheered doubtless by the prospect of a warm shelter. Every now and then, Sperver turned and looked behind him with evident anxiety, and I was not free from a certain indefinable apprehension as I reflected upon the strange account of his master's malady which the steward had given me. Besides, man's spirit harmonizes itself with its surroundings, and, for my part, I know of nothing more melancholy than a forest covered with snow and hoar frost, and stirred by a moaning wind; the trees have a sombre, icy look that chills you to the heart.
As we climbed the slope, the oak-trees became fewer, and the birches, straight and white as marble columns, stretched one beyond another, far out to the horizon line intersecting the dark arches of the larch-trees. Suddenly, as we emerged from a thicket, the ancient fortress reared up before us, its dark extent sprinkled with points of light. Sperver had pulled up before a funnel-shaped gateway, cut deep in the rock between two towers, and barred by an iron grating.
"Here we are!" he cried, leaning over the horse's head and seizing the deer's-foot bell-handle. The clear tinkle of a bell sounded in the interior.
After a few minutes of waiting, a lantern appeared at the end of the archway, dispersing the gloom, and showing us within its circle of light a little dwarf with a yellow beard and broad shoulders, enveloped in furs from head to foot. He came slowly towards us and pressed his great flat face against the grating, straining his eyes to make us out in the darkness.
"Is that you, Sperver?" he asked in a harsh voice.
"Yes. Open the door, Knapwurst!" cried the huntsman. "Don't you know how devilish cold it is?"
"Ah, I know you now," replied the little fellow; "it is you indeed! You always speak as though you would swallow people whole."
The door opened, and the gnome, raising his lantern towards me with an odd grimace, greeted me with, "Welcome, Monsieur Doctor," but in a tone as much as to say, "Here is another one who will go the way of the rest." Then he quietly closed the door, while we dismounted, and this done, he came to take our horses by the bridle.