"This apartment is set aside for knights in your situation," said the old gaoler; "the common people are confined under ground, and are not so well off."
"Is it long since any one lodged here?" asked Albert, looking around the room.
"A Herr von Berger was the last; he died on that very bed seven years ago: God be merciful to his soul! He appeared to be fond of this place, for he often rises from his coffin at midnight to visit his old quarters."
"How?" said Albert, smiling, "has he been seen since his death?"
The old man looked fearfully around the room, now faintly lighted by the dying embers of the fire: he put another log on, and murmured, "Ah, many strange stories are about."
"Did he die on that covering?" said Albert, whilst an involuntary shudder came over him.
"Yes, sir," whispered the gaoler, "he breathed his last on that very covering; God grant he may not have descended lower than purgatory! That covering is now called his winding-sheet, and this apartment the knight's death-room!" With this, the old man quietly slipt out of the room, as if he were afraid the slightest noise might awaken the departed knight.
"And so I am to sleep on the winding-sheet in the death-room of the knight," thought Albert, and felt his heart beat quicker, for his nurse and old servants had often related ghost stories to him in his boyhood. He was undecided whether he should lay himself on the bed. There was neither stool nor bench in the room; and the brick paved floor was still colder and harder than the appointed place of repose; but he began to feel ashamed of his fears, and at once rolled himself in the winding-sheet on the death-bed of the knight.
A clear conscience softens a hard bed. Albert said his prayers, and soon fell asleep. But it did not last long, for he was awoke by strange noises, which appeared to be in the room. He thought it was a dream; he took courage--he listened--he listened again: it was no deception--he heard heavy footsteps in his apartment. The fire at this moment blazed up, and threw its light upon a large dark figure. The distance of the fire-place from the bed was not great. The figure moved towards him; he felt the winding-sheet shake; he was unable to control a momentary shudder, when a cold hand, endeavouring to remove the covering, fell on his forehead. He sprang up, and eyeing the figure which stood before him by the light of the fire, he recognised the well-known features of George von Fronsberg.
"Is it you, general?" said Albert, who now breathed more freely, and threw his cloak aside to receive the knight with proper respect.