"It was a deed of blood! Blood can break the enchantment. If a hunter who has never shed blood gives him blood that belongs neither to man nor beast, and he both drinks and eats it at the same time, the enchantment of the White Stag is broken."
Fischersche would inquire further, but the ravens both remained silent, shook their heads, spread rustling their wings, and flew forth, one up the other down the roaring Bode, to their Hort[[1]] in the steep rocks of the Bodethal, which still bear the name of the Rabenstein.[[2]]
[[1]] Safe retreat in the rocks; usually applied to the eagle.
[[2]] Ravens' cliffs.
When the ravens had disappeared, Fischersche sank in deep thought, and seemed to forget the presence of Weidemann.
"That is a dark saying," she at length said, breaking the silence, and muttered thoughtfully to herself. "Just wait, just wait, I begin to see through the thing. How was it, then? Who can break the enchantment?"
"A hunter who has never shed blood," replied Weidemann.
"And where may we find such an one?"
"Probably nowhere."
Fischersche looked at him oddly, while a smile flitted over her wrinkled face.