them that the storm, whose snow was still covering the ground, had
arisen the very moment that their next door neighbour died, and had
ceased as suddenly the moment he was buried, though it had raved
furiously all the time of the funeral, so that “it made men’s bodies
quake and their teeth chatter in their heads.” Karl had heard that the
man, whose name was John Kuntz, was dead and buried. He knew that he had
been a very wealthy, and therefore most respectable, alderman of the
town; that he had been very fond of horses; and that he had died in
consequence of a kick received from one of his own, as he was looking at
his hoof. But he had not heard that, just before he died, a black cat
“opened the casement with her nails, ran to his bed, and violently
scratched his face and the bolster, as if she endeavoured by force to
remove him out of the place where he lay. But the cat afterwards was
suddenly gone, and she was no sooner gone, but he breathed his last.”
So said Teufelsbürst, as the reporter of the town talk. Lilith looked
very pale and terrified; and it was perhaps owing to this that the
painter brought no more tales home with him. There were plenty to bring,
but he heard them all and said nothing. The fact was that the
philosopher himself could not resist the infection of the fear that was
literally raging in the city; and perhaps the reports that he himself
had sold himself to the devil had sufficient response from his own evil
conscience to add to the influence of the epidemic upon him. The whole
place was infested with the presence of the dead Kuntz, till scarce a
man or woman would dare to be alone. He strangled old men; insulted
women; squeezed children to death; knocked out the brains of dogs
against the ground; pulled up posts; turned milk into blood; nearly
killed a worthy clergyman by breathing upon him the intolerable airs of
the grave, cold and malignant and noisome; and, in short, filled the
city with a perfect madness of fear, so that every report was believed
without the smallest doubt or investigation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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