Years passed away. Some time before the commencement of this legend, the Baron lost his path whilst hunting, and was benighted in the forest. After much fatigue, he was attracted by a light amongst trees which he found to proceed from a low building. It was in a state of extreme dilapidation, though a sort of wing appeared to have been recently tenanted. His knocks for admittance not having been answered, he lifted up the latch and boldly entered. Nothing greeted his sight save the almost extinguished remains of a fire. The apartment was lone and destitute of furniture. Having bestowed Hans as well as he could, he laid himself on the floor; while he felt an extreme chillness of spirits, which he endeavoured in vain to shake off; he was soon buried in sleep. He was awakened by a noise resembling the strokes of many hammers. He conceived his senses must be wandering, for he found that he was at the entrance of the amphitheatre of rocks near the dwelling of the _solitaire_. The same group of figures appeared, and it was not long before a voice, which he knew to be that of Heidelberger, slowly repeated the following chant:-- Woe to him who dares intrude Upon our midnight solitude! Woe to him whose faith is broken-- Better he had never spoken. 'Ere twelve moons shall pass away, Thou wilt he beneath our sway. Drear the doom, and dark the fate Of him who rashly dares our hate! Deceive me once, I tell thee never Shall thy soul and body sever! Under the greenwood wilt thou lie, Nor shall thou there unheeded die. Mortal, thou my vengeance brave, Thou had'st better seen thy grave. Drear the doom, and dark the fate Of him who rashly dares our hate! Meanwhile the Baron had sunk into a state of insensibility. When he awoke from his trance it was broad daylight, and the birds were singing merrily around the ruin. After this adventure, the Baron resumed many of his old habits; and sought by deeper dissipation to dispel the visions of the past. His son was now grown up a sickly youth, and his father's inquietude about him was so great that he would not suffer him for a moment to be out of the sight of his attendants. The year rolled on without any harm befalling the Baron, and his spirits lightened as the time advanced. He had almost forgotten the circumstance, when on the day preceding that of the anniversary of the adventure just related, a grand hunting party was proposed, it being the birth-day of his son. We now return to the situation in which we left the Baron at the beginning of this legend.