departure of Hubert, he went and posted himself in an obscure angle of the knight's hall, to wait until Wolfgang appeared at the accustomed hour; and when the unfortunate baron had opened the door of the tower, he had pushed him by the shoulders into the gulf. His sordid avarice thus touched the realization of his hopes, and his hate was satiated with vengeance.
Cruelly moved by these horrible revelations, baron Roderick could no longer live in this castle, over which hung a bloody veil. He returned to his estates in Courland, from whence he came no more to R—sitten, except in the hunting season.
Franz, the new major-domo, related, during my stay at R—sitten, that from time to time, during the nights lighted by the full moon, the shade of Daniel was perceived wandering through the galleries and large halls of the manor.
Such was the recital given to me by my great uncle, the justice. I risked then timidly a question concerning Seraphine.
"Cousin," said the good old man to me in a trembling voice, "the cruel destiny which struck the family of R—sitten did not spare this poor young woman. Two days after our departure, she was tumbled down among the rocks in a sledging party; her skull was fractured. The baron is inconsolable for his loss. Cousin, we shall never return to R—sitten. At these words, the voice of my great-uncle was extinguished in tears. I left him with a lacerated heart.
Many years after these events, the justice had long slept in the tomb. The war of Napoleon ravaged the North, and I was returning from St. Petersburg along the sea coast. In passing near the little city of K, I perceived at a great distance a starlike flame. As I approached it, I distinguished a very considerable blaze. I asked the postillion if it was a fire.
"No, sir," answered he, "it is the light-house of R—sitten!"
The light-house of R—sitten! this name awoke all the souvenirs of my heart. I saw in a pale halo my adored Ser-
