Another legend relates how a wealthy countryman had lent an Earl von Regenstein a large sum of money, but when he came to demand payment was repulsed with scorn and derision. Soon after the Earl did not return from a predatory excursion, and many singular reports were circulated concerning his death. The countryman hoped for payment from the Earl's heir, but he treated him more roughly than his predecessor had done. The creditor, on his way home, heard suddenly a loud noise like the crackling of flames. He looked around and saw a cleft in the mountain, from which issued smoke. He went and looked in. It was the mouth of a cave, in the deeps of which pitch and sulphur flames with loud hissing enveloped each other, and in the midst of this fire-gulf he saw a human form, over which the flames swept without consuming it, and which sought, wailing and moaning, to escape, but fell ever back into the boiling heat, with wringing of hands and tearing of hair.
He soon recognized the Earl, who after some minutes saw the creditor whom he had cheated at the entrance to the cave, and broke out in lamentations and entreaties.
"Oh! see how I must suffer for my injustice. Have pity on my anguish, forgive my crime. Take my signet ring, go to my successor, tell him what you have seen, warn him not to act as I have done, and to pay my debt, that I may escape from this bed of flames."
The countryman hastened to fulfil the commission, showing the signet ring. He was at once paid with heavy interest, and the castle chaplain received orders to read a mass for the suffering soul.
On his way home the countryman looked again into the cave, but nothing more was to be seen either of the flames or the guilty Earl.
The Spectre Maiden of the Regenstein still haunts the ruins.
How solemnly the old ruinated fortress looks down upon the plain bathed in the rich lights of sunset. And around the walls and the tower sighs a spirit, and sighs the storm.
Let thy stay there be short and cautious, for the ruins are haunted by night. A maiden form rises from the dark vault, and wanders to the tower, and to the great gates, and an innocent countenance smiles upon thee. Guard thyself well, O wanderer; gaze not so deep in the mournful eyes; it is the Spectre-Maiden. She bows to thee in graceful greeting, she offers thee the full lips to kiss, she beckons, she spreads out the arms. Oh, follow her not! Her breath is poison! If thou grant her the kiss, thou wilt fall an irrecoverable prey to death. Her greeting, her beckon, are not for thee; she waits here for her lover.
As Crusader, he marched to the Holy Sepulchre. She is gazing after him from the tower, waiting for his return by the broken drawbridge, and wanders ever in search of him.
If she meet thee, she will fancy thou art her fallen hero-lover. If thou dost follow when she beckons, she will draw thee into an open grave with ice-cold arms.