The baron was well acquainted with every nook and corner in every valley of the winding Danube; and as he was full of good-humor, and described well, and, besides, was flattered at the interest his hearers took in his conversation, he enlivened the voyage by a continuous narration of circumstances which had fallen under his observation.
A legend seldom comes amiss to an Englishman, and enthusiasm is never wanting in his mind for magnificent scenery, such as abounds on this glorious river, which possesses much of the beauty of the Rhine, and superior grandeur and sublimity. Perhaps its waters are scarcely so abounding, or its bed so filled to the brim, as that of the Rhine throughout its course; but, at times, one is half inclined to give the palm, even in this respect, to the more majestic rival of the beautiful torrent now so familiar to tourists as to have become an unappreciated treasure of picturesque riches.
The baron directed the attention of his companions to all that was wild and striking in the scenes around them. As they passed Straubing he told the sad tale of poor Agnes Bernauer, the Agnes de Castro of the Danube, whose fate was even more terrible. The Englishmen shuddered as they looked on the spot where the old bridge stood, from whence the fair unfortunate was cast, and felt inclined to reproach the very waves which submitted to assist the crime of the cruel wretch whose hook dragged the shrieking beauty under water, and drowned her as she struggled to reach the shore.
He told stories of the dark Bogenberg, as they now approached, now lost it in the windings of the capricious river; and related how the Emperor Charlemagne had visited a holy hermit there, whom he beheld, after cutting down a tree, hang his ax upon a sunbeam, a feat frequently performed by saints, who, in days of yore, seemed to have no other pegs for their mantles, caps, &c.
His Satanic Majesty also figured as a conspicuous actor in the baron's legends, and the evidences of his prowess are sufficiently remarkable, it must be confessed, in these regions.
For instance, it would be absurd to imagine any influence but that of the foul fiend could have been exerted to place the perpendicular rock of Natternberg in the way of the steamer, rising up suddenly, as it does, several hundred feet above the waters, and exhibiting on its rugged summit the ruins of the famous castle of Bogen, to reach which must have required help from the bad spirit himself, perched thus high out of reach. The lords of this castle were, however, such zealous worshipers of his, that doubtless he was not niggardly to them in lending a helping hand when called upon.
It was while the steamer was gliding past the village of Hundersdorf, which lies at the embouchure of the stream of Kinzach, that the baron bethought himself of a circumstance which occasioned him to smile, as he exclaimed,
"There is nothing very striking, you will say, in that little place; but a story was once told me concerning it which gives it a sort of fearful interest. But I have already tired you with too many of my legends, and will spare you this."
"By no means," said one of the Englishmen. "We can not let you off so. Of course, in a place so close to the mysterious Bogenberg, there must be something more than common."
"Oh, if you really like to hear what attracts me toward this insignificant village," replied the baron, "I am ready to tell the story as it was told to me."