The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 2, January, 1836Various
General
The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 2, January, 1836
Various
American literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Stupified with terror the young nobleman tottered to the door. As he
threw it open, a flash of red light streaming far into the chamber,
flung his shadow with a clear outline against the quivering tapestry;
and he shuddered to perceive that shadow--as he staggered awhile upon
the threshold--assuming the exact position, and precisely filling up
the contour of the relentless and triumphant murderer of the Saracen
Berlifitzing.
To lighten the depression of his spirits the Baron hurried into the
open air. At the principal gate of the Chateau he encountered three
equerries. With much difficulty, and at the imminent peril of their
lives, they were restraining the unnatural and convulsive plunges of a
gigantic and fiery-colored horse.
"Whose horse? Where did you get him?" demanded the youth in a
querulous and husky tone of voice, as he became instantly aware that
the mysterious steed in the tapestried chamber was the very
counterpart of the furious animal before his eyes.
"He is your own property, Sire"--replied one of the equerries--"at
least he is claimed by no other owner. We caught him flying, all
smoking and foaming with rage, from the burning stables of the Castle
Berlifitzing. Supposing him to have belonged to the old Count's stud
of foreign horses, we led him back as an estray. But the grooms there
disclaim any title to the creature--which is strange, since he bears
evident marks of having made a narrow escape from the flames."
"The letters W. V. B. are also branded very distinctly on his
forehead"--interrupted a second equerry--"I supposed them, of course,
to be the initials of Wilhelm Von Berlifitzing--but all at the Castle
are positive in denying any knowledge of the horse."
"Extremely singular!" said the young Baron, with a musing air, and
apparently unconscious of the meaning of his words--"He is, as you
say, a remarkable horse--a prodigious horse! although, as you very
justly observe, of a suspicious and untractable character----Let him
be mine, however," he added, after a pause--"perhaps a rider like
Frederick of Metzengerstein, may tame even the devil from the stables
of Berlifitzing."
"You are mistaken, my lord--the horse, as I think we mentioned, is
_not_ from the stables of the Count. If such were the case, we know
our duty better than to bring him into the presence of a noble of your
family."
"True!" observed the Baron drily--and at that instant a page of the
bed chamber came from the Chateau with a heightened color, and
precipitate step. He whispered into his master's ear an account of the
miraculous and sudden disappearance of a small portion of the
tapestry, in an apartment which he designated: entering, at the same
time, into particulars of a minute and circumstantial character--but
from the low tone of voice in which these latter were communicated,
nothing escaped to gratify the excited curiosity of the equerries.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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